Maid of Honor
by TaleWeaver
Summary: AU. High school senior Rachel is about to audition for NYU Tisch, but no one seems to care in the frenzy of her older sister Quinn's wedding.  Written for the HetBigBang.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Maid of Honor

AUTHOR: TaleWeaver

DISCLAIMER: All things Glee belong to the trinity of R.I.B. (none of whom are me). All concepts borrowed from the novel 'Maid of Honor' belong to Charlotte Macleod. All songs, theatre productions and other pop culture references mentioned belong to their creators and copyright holders, and I made no financial profit from this work. 'Uptown Wedding' is my own invention, however; it's supposed to be the high society version of the reality show 'Bridezillas'. I went through most of the NYU Tisch website to research their audition process, but I needed to take some artistic license to make things work for my story. Please go directly to their website for further information.

RATING: M. Language, adult concepts, sexual references.

PAIRING: Finn/Rachel, Sam/Quinn, Puck/Quinn, Will/Emma. Maybe Santana/Brittany if you squint.

SUMMARY: (Inspired by the movie 16 candles and the book Maid of Honor by Charlotte Macleod)

(AU) High school senior Rachel is about to audition for NYU Tisch, but no one seems to care in the frenzy of her older sister Quinn's wedding. Her mother's busy creating the society wedding of the decade, her father's too busy trying to pay for it all (and slowly coming unglued dealing with his ex-wife) and her sister's too busy sneaking around with her bad-boy ex. The only one who seems to notice Rachel getting ready for the biggest audition of her life is Finn, the best man, who's not only her long-time secret love, but another of her sister's exes and way out of her league - or is he?

RESEARCH NOTE: I originally intended to have Rachel auditioning for Juilliard, but I went to their website and found out something disturbing: Julliard's vocal training is for OPERA singers only! I checked with an awesome writer's LJ I'm a member of (called little_details) and had it confirmed. Since we've had no evidence that Rachel can play a musical instrument at the level needed for a music degree, Rachel could only study for the acting degree, and take singing lessons as an elective; also, her studies would be very regimented, and the singing might not even be offered until her senior year. But NYU's Tisch School of the Arts (which doesn't include the music program, strangely enough) not only has a Musical Theatre major, but is also one of the most highly regarded Performing Arts Universities in the US. It's also Mark Morrison's alma mater, and Lea Michele was accepted, but turned it down to keep performing on Broadway instead.

DEDICATION: She'll never see this, because I never let anyone I know In Real Life read my stories, but I'd like to dedicate this story to my lovely sister-in-law. Not only did she NOT become a Bridezilla, but her choice of bridesmaids dress was so nice that I actually have worn it several times since. Also, many thanks go to my beta, mida212, for services not only rendered, but possibly above and beyond the call of duty.

* MOH *

_**Quinn and Rachel were adopted by Will and Terri Schuester as children, but Will and Terri divorced during the first year of New Directions; instead of faking a pregnancy, she really did fall pregnant and faked a miscarriage after getting an abortion. Emma has been in counseling for both OCD and fear of sexual intimacy for some time; she's been dating Will for about two and a half years now, but she refuses to marry him until she feels truly healthy.**_

_**As for our Gleeks: Quinn (the bride), Sam (the groom), Puck, Finn, Santana and Brittany are currently all about 20 and in their second year of college; Rachel, Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, Mike, and Artie are seniors in high school.**_

_**All of them revived the glee club in high school as freshman and juniors, with Matt as a senior (I always thought Matt graduated at the end of season 1, at least partly because it didn't seem quite right that only sophomores and freshmen wanted to be in Glee club. Shouldn't there be at least a couple of seniors interested in music/dance and packing the resume for college?). However, the Gleeks on the football team had a somewhat easier time of it, because Bieste took over as coach during Puck, Sam and Finn's junior year as in canon. She doesn't tolerate bullying your teammates, especially when you should be working on your football skills. Not to mention, Will and Emma swiftly became her good friends, so the issues that Ken Tanaka had didn't occur.**_

_**Finn and Quinn dated the summer before and during the first semester of their sophomore year of high school, but broke up that December when he found out she slept with Puck while she was dating Finn during the previous summer (but Beth wasn't conceived). At the start of their junior year, Quinn decided she wanted Finn back, and joined the glee club to get close to him again, as much as because of Sue's orders. Finn was suspicious of the timing (right after football season started, with him as the QB) and wasn't sure he actually wanted her back at all, so he kept her at arm's length. She then found out that from Santana right before their first Regionals (their junior year) that Finn slept with her during sophomore year ('Special Ed' combined with 'Sectionals'; Santana's revelation from 'Power of Madonna' replaces 'babygate'; Sue still leaks the set list though). Finn blasts Quinn for thinking she has any right whatsoever to judge him about what he did after they broke up, and Quinn gets together with Sam instead at the end of the championship game in 'Sue Sylvester Bowl Shuffle'. Sam was the quarterback at Ohio State with her, so she kept dating him. Thanks to Rachel's voice getting them to Regionals, then Nationals, and Kurt sneaking in the application behind his back, Finn's at NYU on a music scholarship.**_

_**Thanks partly to Rachel's friendship, developed during his time dating Quinn, Finn gets over his replacement-daddy issues earlier, and Kurt never really develops stalker-crush levels over Finn, so not only does the Hummel/Hudson household meld during 'Theatricality', Carole and Burt marry between year one and two.**_

_**... and that's what you missed on alterna-GLEE!**_

TWO WEEKS TO GO!

Thursday

McKinley High School Choir Room

"AUUUUGGGGHHHH!"

Rachel's scream bounced off the walls, and the handful of students scattered around the choir room all covered their ears. Rachel's considerable lung power was only enhanced by the acoustic tiles.

Once the echoes died away, Mercedes stood up, walked several feet to the red-haired sophomore boy who'd just spoken, and smacked him hard in the back of the head.

"Jared, you fool!"

The pale, beautifully-dressed teenage boy sitting next to her empty seat scolded, "What in Gaga's space egg were you thinking, mentioning the 'W' word at a time like this! We need to do serious planning for Regionals, not send one of our leading vocalists over the edge!"

Jared shrugged one shoulder, his face apologetic. "I'm sorry, Rachel. I didn't mean to freak you out."

On the other side of Mercedes' original seat, Artie Abrahms rolled his eyes. Seriously, how could **anyone** not realize what a mistake mentioning the W word would be? Rachel and Mr. Schue had been living with this for six months now, and it had started affecting Rachel's friends four months ago. It was true that the rest of Glee club had only been splattered with the blowback for the last two months - but in the last couple of weeks, Sue Sylvester hadn't made a single comment about Mr. Schue's hair or sexuality. Artie had personally witnessed two separate occasions where Coach Sylvester's face had taken on the familiar sneer, only for her to take a deep breath and **not make any comment whatsoever**.

If Sue Sylvester decided to go easy on her self-proclaimed arch-nemesis... well, how much more obvious could it be that not only were they up the creek with the paddles long gone, but the roaring of the waterfall was clearly audible?

Former New Directions member Brittany Pierce had been known for giving a whole new meaning to the 'dumb blonde' stereotype, but she would never have made this blunder. Of course, she was in the wed- um, the WOTY, so she was even closer to ground zero than Artie himself, but if she was still at McKinley, even she would have known better.

Artie groaned and hung his head. Damn, it was getting to him again. He was starting to wonder if **anyone** who cared about Rachel or Mr. Schue was going to be able to think straight until the WOTY became a historical fact.

Maybe he should ask Kurt for some of the multivitamins he'd been slipping in Rachel's fruit smoothies?

"Paula, could you be more specific?"

Artie raised his head, blinked, and bit back another groan. While he'd been lost in his musings, Mr. Schue had not only arrived, but started the Regionals set list discussion. While Regionals wasn't until April, experience had taught them that early planning took a lot of the pressure off, and let them get in the necessary in-depth rehearsal as well as working on other numbers to keep things from getting stale.

While their newest recruit, Leah, made a passionate argument for a Metallica medley, Artie studied his teacher.

Mr. Schue's fair skin was now a least a shade paler than Kurt's porcelain complexion, and he had deep bags colored like bruises under his eyes. Mr. Schue had always had a lean build, but now he'd lost all the weight he'd gained over the past year from Ms. Pillsbury's cooking (for a recovering germaphobe, Ms. Pillsbury apparently had a real way in the kitchen, and a tendency to cook for five instead of three people), and Artie was absolutely certain that there was a lot more grey hair than last August, when the first announcement of the impending insanity had been made.

All in all, Mr. Schue looked about five years older than he had back when school started.

"...so I really think that 'Enter Sandman' would totally kick ass if we mash it up with 'All I have to do is dream'!"

Even with the awkward angle, Artie could see Rachel's lips go thin as she pressed them together hard, and she drew a deep breath in through her nose. Things had gotten a lot quieter during Glee meetings since Rachel had learned some self-control and tact. (Except for the week of the _Hello Dolly_ vs. _Funny Girl_ disaster. But Artie tried very very hard not to think about that. **Ever**.) Rachel opened her mouth exactly at the same time that tubular bells rang from her pocket. Artie recognized the first few bars of Elton John's _'_Kiss the bride' and winced. So did Kurt, Mercedes, Tina and Mike.

Mr. Schue's eyebrows drew together in a weary frown. "Ignore it, Rachel. Take over for me here, will you?"

His shoulders heaving from a sigh, Mr. Schue left the choir room, leaving the door open just enough that he could head off any brawls (Leah was a brown belt, and she detested Sammie, who'd followed in Quinn, Santana and Brittany's footsteps as a Gleerio) and waited. Sure enough, almost as soon as Mr. Schue slumped against the wall, he answered his phone.

Behind him, Artie heard Tina mutter, "How many today, two or three?"

Mike replied gloomily, "Who knows, maybe she'll try setting a new record and make it four calls during Glee."

Mercedes had returned to her seat, and now leaned back so they could hear her as well as Kurt and Artie. "Cherry Slushie says that she's calling about the tablecloths."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "That was Monday. I'll take your bet for a bottled water, because it's bound to be about the place settings."

"That was last Wednesday, remember?" Artie hissed. "It's got to be the flowers. Make my Slushie a Grape."

"Flowers isn't specific enough," Tina pointed out as she leaned forward. "I'll take bouquets, you take reception decorations. Orange."

Mike sighed. "Lemon-Lime says that it's about why Mr. Schue hasn't already taken out a second mortgage on the house so that she can get the Archbishop of Columbus to perform the ceremony."

While Sammie nominated herself for a solo (though she was one of the weakest voices in the group) Mr. Schue's voice drifted faintly through the doorway.

"Terri, I don't even know the difference between blush and fuchsia, but the hotel won't change the curtains in the ballroom to match the napkins. They've already said so, remember?"

"...Taylor Swift!" Sammie paused for a second, before asking, "Wait, isn't the color scheme pale rose, ivory, and cobalt?"

Everyone else in the room nodded.

"Then what's blush and fuchsia got to do with it?"

Everyone else in the room shrugged.


	2. Chapter 2

THIRTEEN DAYS TO GO

Friday

Schuester-Fabray-Berry-Pillsbury residence

Finn Hudson smiled widely as Kurt pulled his Explorer to the curb. "Hey, it looks like we're the last ones here," he remarked.

Jumping out of the passenger seat, Finn started walking past the cars parked up and down the driveway. A loud harrumph from behind him made him stop and wait for his stepbrother.

"Sorry, dude," he apologized.

Kurt rolled his eyes and smiled. "I know perfectly well that you've been looking forward to this since last summer."

Finn grinned back and they headed up past the gridlock, only halting by the pink VW Golf parked near the door. Finn leaned close to inspect the shining gold stars that lined all four edges of the back window.

While he smiled to himself, Kurt's long-suffering sigh came from behind him. "Rachel spent **hours** lining up all those stickers with military precision. You couldn't have found a smaller packet?" His voice changed to proud, and he continued, "It did turn out very nicely though, didn't it? Perfect for our diva."

"She sent a two page email telling me about the three different designs she narrowed it down to," Finn said as they moved to the front door. "When I gave her the stars with her Christmas present, I didn't think she'd block the view out the window! I'm glad she went with the design I picked."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Of course she did."

Kurt had long since passed the stage of needing to ring the bell, and they entered the two-story house unannounced. Something caught Finn's eye as he followed Kurt in, and he stopped by the coat rack.

"Wait, Rachel's still got this thing?"

Kurt turned around to reply, "Oh, the 'Wicked' cast jacket? Of course, she wears it at least once a week. Whenever so much as a thread pulls, she rushes to me for emergency repairs."

Finn chuckled, "I still remember her sending that MySpace video to the producers for her contest entry."

Kurt scowled in remembrance. "I still can't believe I didn't think of that myself. Given what sparked ND's first diva-off..."

Finn observed the danger signs, and took Kurt's arm, steering him back around. Finn had spent quite a few evenings here, first when he was dating Quinn and then for Glee club parties, and automatically walked past the foot of the stairs, turning left into the living room.

He and Kurt really were the last ones here. All the other members of the original New Directions were strewn about the room; they hadn't all been in one place at the same time since last summer. Quinn was sitting between Sam and Puck on the couch, while Rachel and Tina lounged on bean bag chairs between the coffee table and the TV. They faced the recliner that Mercedes had bagged, with Artie parked next to her. Santana and Brittany were sitting together on the loveseat, heads together, though Finn couldn't imagine what they'd be talking about so intently – after all, they already lived together. Santana was pre-med at UCLA, and Brittany was a dancer as well as being a Laker Girl. Over by the fireplace, Mike seemed to be showing Matt some dance moves. Even though Matt had only been around for a year before graduating, he and Mike had bonded over being the dancing football players.

As soon as he and Kurt entered the room, Rachel's head whipped around, and one of her famous smiles spread across her face. Lithely scrambling out of the beanbag chair, Rachel flung herself across the room to land almost face-first against Finn's chest.

Finn just chuckled and hugged her. Honestly, at times like this she didn't seem any different than the thirteen year old she'd been when they first met, back when he and Quinn were dating before Glee.

_Finn shuffled his feet nervously, and ran his hand through his hair one more time before he rang the doorbell. Part of him still couldn't believe that he was about to go on his first date with Quinn Fabray – she'd been named head of the Cheerios while she was a freshman! Even Tommy Sherman, who he was going to replace as quarterback, had looked impressed when they'd run into each other at 7-11 two days ago._

_The door opened, and Finn gave his best parent-smile – to an empty space. He blinked, then looked down to lock gazes with a pair of sparkling dark eyes, belonging to a girl who looked a few years younger than him._

"_Oh, hi! You're" - Finn frantically racked his brain to remember – "Rachel, right?"_

_A million watt smile spread across the little girl's face, and she nodded. "You must be Finn Hudson. Would you like to come in and wait for Quinn?"_

_Finn was a little surprised by this tiny girl talking like she should be at least ten years older and a foot and a half taller, but obediently followed her down the passage, and through to the living room._

"_Would you like something to drink?" Rachel offered, every inch the gracious hostess._

"_Thanks, but I'm fine. Quinn won't be that long, will she?"_

_Rachel checked the clock that hung above the fireplace. "Your date was for seven o'clock, correct? It speaks highly of you to be a few minutes early, but Quinn isn't going to come downstairs until at least ten past. She always keeps her dates waiting for at least that long; she has some deep-seated insecurities that give her a need to assert her dominance and power over all potential mates."_

_Finn blinked again. "You're in middle school, right?" At Rachel's nod, he added, "They should totally move you up a grade."_

_Rachel beamed at him as she gestured to the couch. "Actually, I already did first and second grade in one year. My Dad won't hear of me skipping any more grades, because he doesn't want me to be overburdened by the pressures of high school because I'm too young."_

_As Finn sat down, Rachel moved to the corner of the room, where a baby grand piano sat facing the entrance, with sheet music laid out on top. "I'm in the middle of my musical practice. Would you mind if I continued? To be honest, I do my best work with an audience, anyway - I consider it a good sign for my future Broadway career."_

_Finn shook his head, happy to oblige and maybe get in some brownie points with Quinn's sister, which could lead to brownie points with her. Okay, so a little girl probably wouldn't be all that great, but heck, he probably hadn't been any better at the drums at that age._

_Rachel bent over the piano, played a few notes, then stood ramrod-straight and began to sing._

_Finn's eyes widened, and he __stared at the small dark girl in utter fascination. _

_It felt like her voice was flowing __**through**__ him, making all the cells of his body vibrate in tune to her voice_. _Something inside his chest was quivering, as if her voice was floating across the room to lodge in his heart, tethering them together, singer and listener._

_Rachel made her way through 'On My Own', blushed through Finn's geyser of praise, and finished 'Not That Girl' before Quinn finally made her way downstairs at quarter past seven. Finn was torn between going out with the newly-crowned hottest and most popular girl at school, and staying on the couch to listen to Rachel sing some more, something he accidentally let slip to Quinn on their three-month anniversary. Quinn stormed out of Breadstix and didn't speak to Finn for the next three days._

_Months later, he found out that she'd lost her virginity to Puck on the second day._

Finn gave Rachel one last squeeze, before letting her go. She beamed up at him as she grabbed his hand to tow him over to where she'd been sitting previously. She pushed him down to sit on the coffee table – Kurt had slipped past them to claim the other recliner – and dragged the bean bag chair around to face him.

"What was your grade on your final paper for World Music History? Did you use my suggestion about the cross-pollination of Broadway and London's West End?"

Finn chuckled. He'd known she was going to ask that. "I got an A minus."

Rachel clapped her hands together as she gave a squeal of joy. Finn hoped that she'd leave it at that, because if she made him go into detail he wasn't sure he could control his word vomit. If he couldn't, it would probably come out that on his tutor's advice he'd cut about half the Broadway/West End stuff to focus on international music festivals, and how that had affected several artists who'd become well known in another country before their own.

Luckily, Mr. Schue strolled in and got him off the hook. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as Mr. Schue clapped his hands excitedly (no mystery where Rachel had picked up that trait) and glanced around the room. "All of the first generation of New Directions, back together again! This is wonderful, everyone, really."

As Mr. Schue stood directly under the overhead light, Finn frowned. Was he imagining things, or had Mr. Schue been sick? Neither Kurt nor Rachel had mentioned anything about Mr. Schue being ill in their emails, which were often full of Glee news, particularly Rachel's. Finn moved his eyes sideways, to where Rachel sat beside him. He hadn't noticed before, but now that she wasn't talking or moving, Rachel seemed kinda off, too. She didn't seem as bad as Mr. Schue, but she looked sort of pale, and she was definitely thinner than when he saw her during Christmas vacation, even though she'd mentioned several times how well she'd been eating since Ms. Pillsbury moved in with her and Mr. Schue last year.

He knew that Rachel was not only starring in the school musical, but was director, producer, and doing most of the musical arrangements and choreography, with help from Artie and Mike, and her sidekick Sophie from the AV club helping her on the lighting and sound design. She'd been handed complete creative control over the musical back in her freshman year because of one of Coach Sylvester's many schemes to destroy Glee club. She'd done such an awesome job that she'd kept doing it ever since. But even though she had it down to a science by now, it still had to be exhausting, wearing three and three-half hats – what was that, four and a half? Finn started to wonder what kind of hats they were – baseball caps, fedoras, or what, but another glance at Mr. Schue brought him back to the immediate question.

Maybe Mr. Schue had caught whatever it was from Rachel? For about ten years it'd been like that with him and his Mom; he caught a cold, and just as he got better his Mom would come down with it. But it tended to last longer with her, because she couldn't afford to take time off work and rest. Half the time it got worse and turned into the flu. That was one of the really cool things about Kurt and Burt becoming part of their family; there was always someone available to take care of someone else.

"I'm pretty sure I remembered the right pizzas for everyone, and they should be here in half an hour. In the meantime, can I take drink orders?" Puck opened his mouth just as Mr. Schue continued, "Non-alcoholic only, since Matt and I are the only ones here who are legal. Most of you might not be my students anymore, but I do still feel a need to act like a responsible adult." He made a face and added, "Especially where alcohol's concerned."

At the reminder, Finn couldn't help but snicker, even though he knew that would make Rachel glare at him. She and Mr. Schue had pretty much suffered the most out of New Directions' brief foray into alcohol abuse.

A ripple of laughter went around the room, and Mr. Schue shrugged and smiled. "So, we have Coke, Diet Coke, Dr. Pepper, Sprite, and I think we have a couple of cans of Mountain Dew around the place. We also have spring water and orange juice for those who aren't in the mood for soda. Who wants what?"

Finn opened his mouth to call Dew, when the front door slammed like a descending thunderbolt. Half the room jumped out of their skin (Brittany later said that she nearly went up in the air, flipped upside down and grabbed onto the ceiling lamp like Lord Tubbington during a storm). The other half – the half who hadn't yet left McKinley High – simply flinched, and looked various shades of depressed and angry. Mike already looked about five seconds away from turning into a puddle of misery on the floor, and Mercedes hissed, "Oh **hell** no! Can't the damn bridal ho leave them alone for five freaking hours?"

"Will!" came a shrieking voice from the hall. "Will! You have to speak to those morons! Just **look** at what they're trying to pass off as a centerpiece!"

Finn winced. Man, Mrs. Schue's voice still sounded like she could shatter glass when she was pissed. He still didn't understand how Mr. Schue had gotten out of the divorce with his eardrums intact.

An explosion of flowers appeared in the doorway, and walked forward. Finn watched the legs attached to the three foot high and two foot wide display in fascination, wondering if they were remote-controlled, until it occurred to him that they must be Mrs. Schue's.

The display really was pretty, though, with pink roses, deep blue lilies and snowy white carnations, with bits of that scratchy bush with the tiny flowers that always showed up in wedding bouquets – what had Kurt called it, when Mom and Burt got hitched? Baby's burp or something? Anyway, the tiny flowers were poking out here and there, and sort of lurking in between the other flowers like they were waiting to mug the others for spare petals in order to upsize themselves.

The floral tsunami moved unerringly to Mr. Schue and stopped next to him. "Will, just look at this disgrace! Can you even believe they're trying to pass this off as the centerpiece we painstakingly ordered? You need to call them up right now and make them see sense."

Mr. Schue sighed and dropped his head, reaching up to rub his eyes. "Terri, you have to let this go. They've already gone through three different display models-"

"**Let it go**?" Mrs. Schue screeched. "This is our daughter's **wedding**!"

Without warning, she heaved the flower display at the fireplace. Matt and Mike ducked to either side to get out of the way – Matt even flipped into a handspring to keep from doing a faceplant on the carpet – and the lovely thing fell apart in a riot of broken blooms and shattered china. Finn and all the others who'd just come back to Lima stared at Mrs. Schue in shock, and maybe a little fear. Everyone else just looked away, various degrees of disgust and anger on their faces.

"Terri, are you crazy? Someone could have been really hurt!" Mr. Schue exclaimed, his eyes automatically roaming over his students to make sure everyone's limbs were accounted for.

"Will, are you **blind**? I specifically asked the roses to be French Rose in color! These are Persian Rose, bordering on magenta for God's sake! How can you stand there and tell me to let it go?"

"But I just wanted pink roses," Quinn murmured, her face blank with astonishment.

Mrs. Schue turned to look at the couch, and her face brightened. "Quinn, sweetie, when did you get in?"

"Umm, we got in two days ago, Mrs. Schue," Sam ventured.

Mrs. Schue frowned, and demanded, "Why haven't you reported to me for your next assignment? This is your wedding too, Sam, and it's really only fair that you make some contribution."

Quinn darted a quick glance sideways to her fiancée and licked her lips, before venturing, "Mother, don't you think you're going just a little overboard?"

"Quinn, I'm doing all this for you and Sam! While you're busy up at college with keggers and all-nighters, I'm here constantly going into battle against incompetent florists, and caterers who simply won't do as they're told, and don't get me started on just how unreasonable the concierge at the hotel is being! He's almost as bad as Sam's mother!"

Quinn blinked. "Mother, has anyone suggested that things are starting to get a little out of hand?"

Finn heard a sort of rumble, almost a vibration, and tore his eyes away from the rampaging Mrs. Schue to see Artie, Tina, Mike, Mercedes, Kurt and Rachel all glaring at Quinn. Were they **growling**? Finn had a sudden flashback to a National Geographic special he'd seen once; the scene playing out in front of him reminded him uncomfortably of the bit where the entire tribe of wild beasts united to tear apart a hapless prey animal (after seeing what was left, he'd almost barfed).

He couldn't have said later what made him look at Rachel, but he almost gasped. Rachel was very nearly white, which was a real challenge with her olive complexion, and her jaw looked like she was grinding her teeth. Her eyes were narrowed almost to squinting, and she was staring at her sister with something very close to hate. It only lasted for a few seconds, before Rachel's eyes dropped to her lap, a guilty expression crossing her face, before she silently stood and slipped out of the room.

Finn looked to his brother for some kind of explanation, but Kurt's anxious face kept moving back and forth like a tennis spectator between the doorway Rachel had just disappeared through, and the other recliner. Finn followed his gaze to where Mercedes sat, and nearly choked. New Directions' own lady of Motown was as red as her cocoa skin would allow, her lips pressed together so tightly that they had nearly disappeared, and Finn was a little surprised that he couldn't actually see steam coming out of her ears. To be honest, Mercedes looked like she was about ten seconds away from leaping across the room and tearing out Quinn's throat with her teeth.

Finn managed to catch Kurt's eye long enough to nod to the doorway, then point to his chest. Kurt's whole face relaxed in relief, and he nodded back before turning to Mercedes, starting to murmur soothingly while Finn got to his feet and did his best to leave sneakily. Someone must have been watching over him, because he didn't trip over his feet even once.

Finn and Rachel had always had to be on the same team for games of Flashlight Tag - he just had a knack for finding her. She still had guests, so she wouldn't have shut herself in her room... Finn followed his Rach-dar (sort of like sonar, only with much sweeter pitch) and headed to the kitchen.

Rachel was bent over the kitchen counter, elbows on the counter and her face buried in her hands, while her whole body trembled. Finn hurried across the tile floor and gently rubbed her back. Rachel lifted her face to look at him, her face blotchy, and sniffled once, before she threw herself at him just like she had only a few minutes ago, only in sorrow instead of joy. While she buried her face in his chest and sobbed, Finn wrapped one arm around her slender waist, and used his free hand to keep rubbing her back, while he hummed an off-tune rendition of 'Funny Girl'.

Finn didn't think he'd ever seen Rachel this upset. She hadn't even been this bad when she snuck over to see him and Kurt the night Mr. and Mrs. Schue told her they were getting a divorce. No, wait, she'd been worse than this after they'd lost their first Regionals, when everyone thought New Directions was over for good.

Luckily, before he reached the bridge and slaughtered Streisand any more, Rachel lifted her head and gave him a wan smile.

"Thank you, Finn, I needed that."

For once, Finn was thankful for his freakishly long arms, because it meant he could reach into the wall shelving and grab the box of tissues Ms. Pillsbury kept in pretty much every room of the house. Rachel grabbed one and blew her nose hard (and was he nuts, or did she even do that in tune?), before balling it up to dab at her eyes. Finn used the arm he still had around her waist to steer her over to the sink, where he soaked the pristine washcloth in the tap, squeezing it out the best he could in one hand, and handed it to Rachel. She smiled – the last one had been 10 watts, this one was about 40 – and gently pressed the washcloth to her red and puffy eyes.

A minute later, Rachel lowered the wet cloth with a sigh, and leaned her head sideways to rest on Finn's chest. "Where on earth did you learn this trick? Kurt's moisturizing routine?"

Finn chuckled quietly. It was a years-long running gag in the Hudmel house; any kind of unusual knowledge, from his Mom calling a football play to Burt being able to spot a fake Gucci handbag was said to be learned from Kurt's moisturizing routine. "Nah, my Mom. Before she met Burt, once a month she'd spend the night on the couch with a bottle of red wine, some chocolate, and about three boxes of tissues and watch at least three movies in a row that always left her bawling her eyes out. I still can't figure out why she enjoyed it so much – she just says it's a double-X chromosome thing."

Rachel half-giggled, half-hiccupped, and then sighed.

"I saw the way you guys all reacted to Quinn. I know you said your Mom was obsessed with this wedding, but I didn't realize she was this bad. I thought you guys were turning the phones on to the answering machine between ten at night and six-thirty in the morning?"

Rachel's expression turned ugly as she stared out the window. "That stopped working in early December. She backed off over Christmas break, or you would have seen it yourself. She doesn't stop, Finn, ever. If we try to ignore her long enough to get things in our own lives done, she forces herself on us in person and she spends five minutes ranting about what a bad sister and father we are and we don't understand how important this wedding is, and that's before she begins her tirade about whatever issue she has now."

Rachel looked up at him, her eyes desperate, and Finn felt that tether inside his chest start aching in sympathy. "About a month ago, she called my father during one of his Spanish lessons – have I mentioned she has all our schedules memorized, so she knows when we have so-called 'free time'? 'Free time' meaning time she thinks is better used to obey her orders about the wedding, not used for things like lesson plans or rehearsal or preparing for my college auditions – and he had his phone on silent and locked in his desk. Even though she'd already spent fifteen minutes of his lunch time complaining about how the caterer refused to import cherry tomatoes from Florida for one of the salads, and Dad **told** her at lunch that he wasn't going to answer the phone anymore because he was holding tests in all his afternoon classes. She stormed into the staff meeting after school, and literally dragged him out of the staff room by his tie – right in front of Principal Figgins and Coach Sylvester! – and spent ten minutes screeching at him for being a failure as a father and why couldn't he pay for a string quartet to play during dinner and the bridal party dances, before Coach Bieste came out and used a wrestling move to physically escort her from the premises! When Dad made it back to the staff room, Principal Figgins asked Coach Sylvester to call one of her friends at the courthouse and pull some strings to get a court order forbidding Mother from coming within twenty feet of the school."

Finn's jaw was somewhere near the middle of his chest by this point, and he couldn't think of a single thing to say except, "Does Quinn have any idea how bad it's been?"

Rachel laughed scathingly, and it set his teeth on edge like styrofoam rubbing together. "Why would she tell Quinn any of this? Quinn might decide to actually take some responsibility for her own wedding, and if she took over there wouldn't be any need for Mother to martyr herself in the name of this wedding. How could she be held up as such a shining example of maternal devotion then?"

Finn pulled her closer and wrapped both arms around Rachel, holding her gently. Rachel laid her head back on his chest, and sighed, "She suggested at Thanksgiving dinner that she move back in with us, _'just temporarily, because it would be so much more convenient for wedding business, and it'll be just like the old days!'_. She said that right in front of Emma!"

"Jesus," Finn breathed.

"Dad told her instantly that there was no way in hell that was happening, and he paid a fortune to have all the locks changed the next day, during the holiday weekend. I think that's when the phone calls increased to four a day. Until Principal Figgins had the court order served, my main staff at the musical had several emergency plans in place – on their own initiative – to keep Mother away from me during rehearsals. We're already planning our Regionals set list, but I think I would have been asked to step out of Glee to end the constant disruptions if I wasn't so important to our performances, and Dad wasn't our teacher. Even with all this, it's still easier for me, because all I can do is errands – because I can't be trusted with any important decisions – and grunt work. Dad not only gets calls to force the service companies to do what she wants, but calls about the budget as well. After all, it's not like **she** can pay for anything. She's only a store manager at Sheets 'n' Things, and we can't ask Sam's family to pay for any of this spectacle – it might give them the authority to make decisions about the wedding themselves!"

Finn wanted so much to make things better for Rachel, but what could he say? It's not like Mrs. Schue was going to change or get any better, and it wasn't like Quinn was going to notice or appreciate someone else's suffering for her dream wedding. All he could do was hug her tighter and offer, "Well, one way or another it'll be over soon."

"Thanks for trying, Finn, but that doesn't really help. We still have thirteen more days of this." Rachel sighed, and ventured, "Finn? You know how I always hug people I love when they come home, or after I haven't seen them for awhile?" Finn nodded, even though she couldn't see it since her face was tilted down to the floor. "I haven't been able to hug Quinn once. Every time I see her face, I want to scream at her and never stop for putting us through this. God help me, Finn, but I'm on the verge of really, truly, despising my own sister."

Finn had never been so glad to smell Kurt's cologne in his life – he was way out of his depth, here, and sinking fast. He looked up to see his brother flying towards them, latching onto Rachel to comfort her in a hug from both sides.

"Oh, sweetie, it's okay. You may be a Broadway legend in the making, but you're still only human. You're going through hell – or at least one of the lower circles of purgatory – and it's because your sister is a selfish bitch queen. No, don't argue, whatever character growth she achieved during her time in Glee has now been countermanded by her demanding a wedding that would make the contestants on 'Uptown Wedding' jealous and not taking charge of it herself. She's put an unacceptable burden on you and Mr. Schue, and you have every right to resent her for it. But Rachel, she's going to be your sister for the rest of your lives. If you slip over the edge, you'll damage your relationship with her for good, and do you really want that?"

Rachel sighed again. "No, I don't. She's been my sister for ten years, and I'd like that to continue, even if she does drive me up the wall with her shallowness most days. If I repudiate her now, how will I ever see her grow out of being a Cheerio?"

Kurt gave her a quick shoulder-rub, and suggested brightly, "Why don't we start on the drinks? Between the two of us, we know what all our crowd wants. Why don't we pour the first lot, send Finn down with the tray, and get Mr. Schue to take the rest of the orders?"

Rachel took a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded. "I made sure we had a couple of cans of Cherry Coke for Tina, and Sprite for Mike. Mercedes only likes 'real' Coke, Artie the same, I have Diet Coke, there's a jug of ice water in the refrigerator for you, and Quinn has Dr. Pepper. Finn, the Mountain Dew's in a 2-liter bottle in the refrigerator door."

Finn broke away, instantly missing the warmth of Rachel's slight body, and headed for the refrigerator while Rachel and Kurt busied themselves with glasses and the tray.

Kurt made eye contact with Finn, and nodded. "It's okay, I've got this now."

Finn nodded in return, passing the trust to his brother, and gratefully headed back to the living room with the tray in his hands. He couldn't hear Mrs. Schue anymore – with any luck, Mercedes had asked Coach Bieste to teach her some of those wrestling moves. Better yet, Puck had weighed in and he'd made a crack so provoking that Mrs. Schue's head had exploded.

* MOH *

Kurt waited until Finn was well out of earshot, before he asked his fellow diva, "So. Just to really pile the pressure on you, when's the Great Revelation?"

"What are you talking about?" Rachel replied, busily pouring Coke into the two tumblers patterned with spots (when Emma had moved in last year, she'd brought the set of glasses with the different patterns with her, to make it easier to remember who had what at Glee parties). "I hope Noah and Sam still like Coke. Do you think that we should get out the potato chips as well?"

"When are you going to confess your love to Finn? You've been head over heels for the man since you were fourteen years old, darling. If you wait much longer, even Finn's going to figure it out for himself, and then you'll lose all control of the situation."

Rachel sniffled a little, and ducked her head so that her long dark hair fell about her face, screening her expression from his gaze. "I can't, Kurt, not now. Finn knows me better than anyone, with the possible exceptions of you and Dad. When I tell him, he's going to understand all of it – that when I say 'I love you', I mean 'I love you forever'. He hasn't dated one girl for more than a month since he broke up with Quinn. I brought up the subject last Christmas, and he told me straight out that he wasn't ready for his one and done."

"One and done? Wait, that sounds familiar..." Kurt frowned in thought, trying to figure out where he'd heard that phrase from.

"You've probably heard Carole say it," Rachel explained. "She used it about Finn's father, when I asked her about him. When I questioned her about Burt, she told me not many people were lucky enough to find it more than once."

"Carole does have a way with words, sometimes - I think it's where Finn gets his knack for song writing. But it's ridiculous, really, how perfect you are for each other now that we're all grown up." Kurt caught himself, and frowned reprovingly. "No trying to distract me from the discussion at hand, missy. He may not be ready for some hitherto unknown woman to walk into his life on a permanent basis, but you spent two years burning up the stage with him during duets, and every time he comes home he sees or talks to you at least every other day – and at least half the time, he's the one to initiate contact. When he's not home, you talk on the phone **and** exchange emails at least once a fortnight! He already knows what he'd be getting into with you, and all the available evidence suggests that he wouldn't mind one bit. I thought you'd decided that a wedding was the perfect romantic atmosphere."

Rachel's head whipped up, and she glared, "That was **before** my mother went completely off the rails! I want Finn however I can get him, and I know that a lack of a wedding ring doesn't mean lack of commitment or stability in a relationship... but I want to be his wife someday, Kurt. I know I'm young, but Finn's the one and done for me. Even when I dated Jason and Owen I knew that – I just wanted to make sure that I wasn't fooling myself in my enthusiasm. I know I can be a little over the top sometimes."

Kurt nudged her shoulder with his, and smiled. "Just a little. But only about the important things."

"If I tell Finn now, he'll take one look at **her**, think about how she'll react to having a second wedding to plan after having five years or so to rest up and get new ideas, and be too traumatized to even think of going through it himself! And if he spends some time reflecting about what she's capable of doing to get another opportunity..." Rachel shuddered. "Even if I swear up and down I'm happy to simply elope in Vegas-″

"Vegas!" Kurt exclaimed, shuddering at the thought. "Rachel, you **can't**. I simply cannot be Best Man at a wedding officiated at by Elvis."

"Elvis? Don't be ridiculous," Rachel told him. "We'd be married on the Terrazza Di Sogno at the Bellagio Hotel, with the famous fountains timed to go off just as we kiss for the first time as husband and wife. The Bellagio has an in-house Rabbi, and custom-made Huppah, Prayer Shawl and Kiddush Cup available as part of their wedding packages."

"Oh well, that's a different matter altogether. But no matter what, I design your wedding dress-″

"As well as all my Tony gowns, and you get veto on all my Grammy choices, yes, I already swore in blood, remember? Anyway, having Terri Del Monico Schuester as a mother-in-law is enough to make any man run screaming, even Finn. In his last email, Finn mentioned that coming back for the wedding means he won't have enough money to travel during Spring Break. I'll know for sure by then that I've been accepted into Tisch, and Dad's already planning a trip for us to New York during our own Spring Break, so we can scout out the area around the school and catch April Rhodes' new show – you're invited, by the way, Dad's going to talk to your parents about it after the wedding. If I tell Finn during our visit to him, I can also reassure him that the two of us will be together in New York for at least two years, and the rest of our lives after that – hopefully with you and Blaine nearby, of course."

"Of course," Kurt replied. This obviously wasn't the time to share his doubts about the 'you and Blaine' part. He loved Blaine, he really did, but somehow Kurt wasn't convinced they'd be together at college graduation. They'd still be close, he knew that, but a couple? He wasn't sure.

"Telling him in the town where our shared past took place would be romantic, but it will be just as romantic in the place where our future will begin. The most important thing is that I tell him properly, at the right time. Well, most important apart from him saying yes. This way, if he says 'no' or even 'not yet' I won't have to be constantly reminded of his rejection."

Kurt slid his arm around Rachel's slim shoulders, giving her a small squeeze. "Finn doesn't have any trouble saying you're important to him, and that he cares about you. Getting him to see he loves you is just a matter of making him see that you're more than his and my mutual friend – and that you're no longer the tiny thirteen year old he used to ferry between singing lessons and ballet. But honestly, Rachel, you have to tell him soon."

"Soon," Rachel promised.

Kurt heard his brother's distinctive thumping gait approaching, and let go of Rachel to face the door. As Finn appeared in the doorway, he asked, "What do you think about whisking Rachel out of range tomorrow night? Do you think you can talk Carole into letting Rachel sleep over? I can't imagine our mother letting Terri Schuester get the best of her."

Finn smirked. "Mom would curb-stomp her like the Master Chief. I'll talk her into it, no problem. You know she loves you anyway, Rach. Maybe Mr. Schue would let you come over for dinner as well?"

Rachel smiled. "It would be nice to have a meal without sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for the phone to toll."

"Toll? Um, Rachel, phones ring."

"As in 'ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee'," Rachel explained. "It's from a piece by John Donne. That particular line refers to church bells tolling a funeral knell."

"You think about phone calls from your mom like a funeral? Rachel, you really need to get away from her for awhile. Lucky for you, she left after handing out these monster booklets to everyone in the wedding party."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Booklets? That's the Master Schedule, our bible for the next two weeks. At least she's finally deemed it complete after version six. I suggest you keep it with you at all times, because I'm sure that pop quizzes will be forthcoming."

"Umm... anyway, Quinn promised to go by the florist first thing tomorrow and make the final decision herself."

Rachel sighed. "One point of contention down, several dozen to go. Can't wait to see how my sister decides the Wedding Cake Crisis."

Kurt was about to ask Rachel to be more specific about **which** Wedding Cake Crisis – the flavoring, design for the decorative piping, or if the topper needed to be wearing an exact duplicate of Quinn's wedding dress – but decided to leave well enough alone. He still remembered hiding under the table during the great Buttercream vs. Fondant battle, and had no desire to live through another such incident. From now on, Quinn could damn well take up some of the burdens of her own wedding, or Rachel's friends would find a way to make her. Rachel's audition for Tisch was in two weeks, and she had far more important things to do.


	3. Chapter 3

TEN DAYS TO GO!

Monday afternoon

Blushing Brides Bridal Shoppe

Rachel hopped out her VW Golf, Kurt following close behind. Today was the day she'd finally see what she'd be immortalized wearing in her sister's wedding photos. She knew her Mother had taken charge of this area, too, and she was more than a little anxious about it. She'd had various colors and types of fabric held up to her face and body, and extremely specific measurements taken (and she didn't care if the dressmaker was a professional, and another female – standing around in a semi-public area in nothing but her underwear had been humiliating!), but she still hadn't seen the dress before now, and that fact was making her very uneasy. That was one of the reasons she'd asked Kurt to come with her. If the dress turned out to be a true crime of fashion, Kurt could at least make her look as good as possible in it.

The bell clanged cheerfully as they entered the shop, only to find Santana and Brittany already in the foyer. Santana was slumped in a chair, a glass of complimentary champagne in one hand and an empty glass marked with her signature scarlet lipstick on the table beside her. Brittany was in the center of the main room, a tiara in her hair with a floor-length veil attached, watching herself in the three-way mirror standing in the far corner as she twirled around, swishing the layered tulle around herself in a version of the 'Dance of the Seven (Bridal) Veils'. A young woman in an ice-blue suit watched her closely, her anxiety detectable even behind her professional mask – the veil must be either very expensive or custom-ordered, and after several months of fittings and trousseau shopping, both online and during weekend trips to Columbus, Rachel had a fairly good idea of just how expensive bridal wear could be.

"Excuse me – I'm the maid of honor for Quinn Fabray."

The attendant beamed at her, and exclaimed, "Wonderful, you're all here now! Are you one of the groomsmen?"

Kurt smiled and shook his head. "Moral support and fashion consultation only."

An odd expression flickered over the attendant's face, before the smile reasserted itself. "I'll just go fetch your dresses, and you can try them on for possible adjustments."

As she slipped through a set of curtains, Santana sighed and knocked back the remainder of her champagne in one long gulp. "Okay, bitches. Let's get this show on the road."

Rachel handed her 'Wicked' jacket to Kurt, before she followed through the curtains. Just as she entered the main room, the attendant came out, staggering under the weight of three loaded garment bags. After a session of fumbling and near-dropping of the garment bags between the attendant and all three of them that wouldn't have disgraced an Abbott and Costello movie, Rachel, Santana and Brittany each found their respective bags and had shut themselves into adjacent fitting rooms.

Rachel hung up the bag on one of the provided hooks, and unzipped the garment bag.

She blinked.

Then she finished opening the bag and let it drop to the floor, leaving the dress in full view.

Rachel heard a stream of Spanish from the next stall, and was fluent enough in the language (her father taught it for a living, after all) to understand just how filthy it was. She paid no attention. She was too busy staring at the garment hanging in front of her.

Rachel took a deep breath, bit her lip, and changed into her maid of honor dress.

One by one, Rachel, Santana and Brittany left the cubicles, and exchanged pained glances. In a silent agreement, they lined up in front of the full sized mirror in the main room at the same time, and stared at themselves.

"I was sure we'd get stuck with ass bows," Santana stated flatly. "This fucking sash is actually worse. **And** she still managed to work in some bows."

"How many sequin trees were cut down for each dress, do you think?" Brittany asked, turning to examine the back of the dress in the mirror.

"I don't see why we have to have ruffles on the sleeves, the bodice **and** the hem," Rachel remarked. Granted, Kurt had often decried her fashion sense, but these dresses were truly ugly by anyone's standards.

The tea rose pink dress would have suited Brittany, but on Santana it looked insipid. The flamboyant Latina could have made the fuchsia dress work, but it totally overpowered Brittany's pale coloring. Cerise wasn't the best color for Rachel, but it wasn't the worst, either. But the style...

"I don't care how far back Quinn and I go," Santana stated. "I'm not paying to look like this in public."

"I realize that as Quinn's bridesmaids – and particularly as her sister and best friends – it's our duty to wear unflattering dresses in order that she might shine at her most beautiful. But Quinn has never needed **this** much help," Rachel stated.

"Not even hung over on the first day of her period," Brittany added, eyeing her reflection in the mirror and making a face.

"How is everything coming along?" the attendant asked, approaching them. All three of them turned their heads to glare at her. Her smile promptly wilted around the edges as she stopped in her tracks.

"Er... I realize that the cut isn't very suitable for your differing body types, but Mrs. Schuester was most insistent. She even selected the colors for each of you, and personally approved the placement of all the adornments of each dress." Shrinking at the united glare, she offered lamely, "They are all completely paid for already."

Santana sighed, and reached down to the foot of the mirror for the purse she'd brought with her from the cubicle, pulling out a silver hip flask. "I was afraid of something like this," she muttered, before she took a hefty swig.

She offered the flask to Brittany, who took a slug in turn. Santana then took it back and passed it along to Rachel. Rachel looked at the flask for a second, all her arguments about underage drinking running through her head. Then she looked at her reflection again, and belted back a shot like a seasoned drunk. At least until the burn of the tequila hit.

Even as she coughed and spluttered, Brittany asked, "Your mom decided on these dresses?"

Rachel nodded, her eyes watering, before she croaked, "Evidently."

"You must be **so** glad you're adopted."

Santana was rummaging through her bag again, and now brought out a thick garter, more like a thigh holster than a traditional piece of bridal lingerie, with an extra set of loops obviously meant to hold the flask. "There's only one way we're getting through this shit alive."

Brittany and Rachel both nodded in unison.

"Maybe we can try Scotch or bourbon for the wedding?" Rachel asked. "I don't think tequila suits me."

"How about vodka?" Brittany asked. "That way we can sing in Russian at the reception."

"Rachel, can I come in and look?" Kurt sang from behind the curtain that separated the dressing room from the lobby. "Please let me see you! Then I can start working on a proper hair and makeup design."

Rachel looked at the other two in alarm. "Should I tell him to leave? I don't want to put him in therapy or anything-"

"Coming in, ladies!" Kurt swept through the curtains. "Don't worry if you're in your underwear, I assure you it's of no interest-"

He looked at the assembled bridesmaids.

They looked back.

Kurt's eyes bulged in their sockets, and he gave a short, sharp scream, before his eyes rolled up in his head and he gracefully collapsed to the floor.

"Kurt!" Rachel cried out, picking up her skirt and running to kneel by his side.

Kurt stirred and muttered, "So many ruffles... such large bows... sequins... AARGGGHH!" Sitting bolt upright, he looked at Rachel frantically. "Rachel, I just had the most horrid nightmare – oh God, I wasn't dreaming." Looking her up and down, Kurt stated unequivocally, "Rachel, you cannot wear that monstrosity. You are my soul sister, and if anyone thought for a second that I actually allowed you go out in this... **thing**... I would die of shame, and possibly lose my placing at FIT."

"Kurt, the wedding's in a little more than a week! There's only one more dress fitting on the Master Schedule. How much can you do?"

Kurt's face was grimmer than she'd ever seen it, and held enough determination to take on Sue Sylvester and win. "You have no idea how much I can do, Rachel, but you – and that woman who calls herself your mother – are going to find out. You can depend on me, Rachel, I won't let you down."

Rachel heaved a sigh of relief, and bent forward to hug her best friend. If Kurt said he'd take care of it, at least she wouldn't be completely humiliated.

* MOH *

SEVEN DAYS TO GO!

Thursday night

Lima Lanes

"C'mon, man, chug!"

Finn rolled his eyes as Sam obeyed, downing the Jaegerbomb like a pro.

Of course, they'd all had plenty of practice during the proper Bachelor party back in Columbus last weekend. Finn was pretty sure he'd still been a little hung over when Kurt came home on Monday, even whiter than one of those 'Twilight' guys and babbling under his breath about magenta sequins being an offense against all the Gods of Fashion. He had vague memories of his Mom asking Kurt about it at dinner, and he'd muttered some really rude words, but then his Mom had asked something about moral support and dresses, and when Kurt had nodded, looking like he was about to barf, she hadn't even reproved him for using **that** word! He'd been too afraid to ask Kurt about it once his head wasn't threatening to burst if he nodded too hard.

So Finn didn't really see the point of calling this get-together a Bachelor party. It was basically just the same as any of their parties when the four of them got together on breaks, only with an excuse to book the members' section of the bowling alley, invite some of the other guys they'd known in high school, and hire some strippers. Puck had called him 'lamest Best Man ever' for booking it here, but Finn loved bowling, and that way he had something to do while he waited for all the other guys to pass out or throw up. Also, calling it a Bachelor party meant he was legally forbidden from taking photos of anyone for blackmail purposes later. Guess Matt had learned after the pictures Finn took the last time he was designated driver.

Sam slammed the glass down, the shot glass inside chiming against the bottom of the now-empty highball, just as Ke$ha's 'Take it off' started and the blonde stripper approached him.

Huh. Puck was grinning and cheering, but... something was off. Maybe everyone else was too drunk to see it, but Finn had known the dude since they were eight, and tonight Puck wasn't as nearly into the ladies as he was the drinking, and for Puck? That was just wrong.

Finn sighed, looking at the scantily-clad girl grinding herself against Sam, who really looked quite uninterested and more as if what he really wanted was another Jaegerbomb. Yeah, Sam was the one getting married, but still. Actually, it sort of reminded Finn of the days back in high school when he thought Sam would wind up dating Kurt, not Quinn.

The second stripper was headed towards him with a purposeful gleam in her eye, and Finn hurriedly shook his head, nodding towards Damien Kite (heck, the dude had saved him from God knows how many sacks as part of the defensive line. It was the least Finn could do). Not that Finn was all that into strippers in the first place; he'd liked the burlesque bar that his frat brother Renji had dragged him to once, and even told Rachel about it in one of their phone calls. She'd asked him lots of details about their routines, and he'd been relieved to truthfully be able to report that all the important clothes had stayed on. But the whole stripping with a bored expression on your face – usually to bad or way-overused music - wasn't sexy to him at all. Renji said it was because he'd never seen a proper stripper, one who understood that she was actually performing and liked it. Finn kind of thought that's what the girls in the burlesque bar were doing, and that was why he'd enjoyed it.

Anyway, the second stripper was small and brunette, and it gave Finn a vaguely queasy feeling. She changed course, and Finn decided to get out while the going was good.

Sam was now being urged to drink no-hands from a shot glass nestled in the cleavage of the blonde, making Finn roll his eyes even as he wandered out the black glass doors and into the general section of the bowling alley.

There were another sixteen lanes out here, with old-fashioned TV's pumping out the classic rock video station on cable. Finn smiled to himself in nostalgia. He'd always loved bowling, and it had become a major stress reliever in high school. No one had ever wanted to go with him, though – except Rachel.

After he'd rejected Quinn's attempts to revive their relationship his junior year, (almost six months after they'd broken up over the fiasco with Puck. Finn had always wondered about the timing; right after football season started) he'd brought Kurt and Rachel here almost every Wednesday night, right up until he left for college. Mercedes refused to join them because of 'the offense-against-God-awful shoes' and Kurt refused to actually bowl, preferring to sit on the sidelines and snark at them both impartially. Then as soon as he and Rachel went through three games, Kurt would drag them off to the karaoke night in the lounge, where they'd go through a set of 80's and 90's classics to general acclaim. Funny how bonding evenings with his new brother and said brother's best friend were far more fun than any date he'd ever had.

The first time he'd brought Rachel here, though, they'd been alone, and they always used the same lane after that.

Finn shifted his gaze from the merchandise display to lane twelve, and somehow wasn't at all surprised to see a tiny, dark-haired figure in a short pink skirt and a vintage 1950's black and white bowling shirt.

"Rachel!"

She turned and waved at him, that million-watt smile he loved breaking over her face. Finn met her at the counter that topped the ball racks, smiling in return.

"What are you doing here?" they asked simultaneously.

Then they both laughed.

"Bachelor party in the members' bar," Finn told her, nodding back towards the black glass doors. "You?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Quinn's having a sleepover with Santana and Brittany, as a sort of a precursor to the Bachelorette party in Columbus this weekend. I'm sure that alcohol and probably pornographic movies will be involved. Despite being the maid of honor, and the only member of the bridal party who can claim to be both intelligent **and** sane, I was told to stay home, because I was too young to party seriously."

Finn shuddered. "I don't even want to think about what **they've** got planned. The strippers at this party are bad enough."

Rachel's eyebrows reached for her hairline. "Strippers? Then shouldn't you be in there with them?"

Finn snickered. "Please, I'm a frat brother. I see a bunch of drunk stupid guys and babes taking off their clothes in public at least once every party. I'd rather be out here with you."

Rachel blushed, and her smile actually reached a million and a half watts, making him feel warm all over like a sunlamp.

"Well, I've only just started. Care to join me?"

"Love to. Want to split a pizza?"

"Love to."

* MOH *

Twenty minutes later, Finn was chewing on his last slice of pizza.

Then Rachel asked out of the blue, "Finn, do you remember the very first time you brought me here?"

Finn nearly choked. "Yeah, I do. You'd quit Glee to do 'Cabaret', and I was trying to talk you into coming back, because we needed you for Sectionals."

Oh, yeah. He remembered **everything**.

"_This pizza is really great," Rachel smiled._

"_Yeah, I think they import the pepperoni from Michigan or somewhere," Finn replied. "Hey, d'you mind if I ask you something?" _

_Yeah, it wasn't anything to do with why he was here, but it was something he'd been wondering about since he started dating Quinn last year. He'd never had the nerve to ask Quinn, but he didn't think Rachel would rip his head off or anything._

"_Sure."_

"_If you and Quinn are Mr. and Mrs. Schue's kids, how come you're Berry and she's Fabray?"_

_Rachel gave him a sad smile, reaching for her drink. "We're adopted. It's why Quinn goes to Christian Crusaders while I go to temple, and I get a menorah on the sideboard by the Christmas tree." Taking a long drink on her straw, she continued, "When I was eight and Quinn was ten, our parents' cars collided during a storm. Her parents died straight away. My Daddy didn't last long, but my Papa stayed alive until he reached the hospital. He had a good chance, according to the doctors, but... I guess he didn't want to stick around without my Daddy."_

_Finn blinked for a second. Wasn't there one too many fathers there? "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Your parents were... um... an alternative couple?"_

_Rachel nodded. "I was born using a surrogate. Dad and Mother had just been approved as foster parents, so they were next up on the list. There aren't a lot of available kids in Lima, so they jumped at the chance to take us, even though we were too old to be cute and lovable. Well, I was."_

"_But didn't they look for your birth mom?"_

"_She signed away all rights to me at birth. Dad says that if I want to look for her, he'll help me. I've thought about it..." Rachel looked down at her plate. "I think Mother always saw parenting as something to be achieved. Not someone to be. I'm not sure how well she copes with the reality of things."_

_Finn looked down at his own plate. Yeah, so he didn't know Mrs. Schue very well, despite dating her oldest daughter for almost seven months the year before. But he got the feeling she was mostly about being a mother where other people could see her. At least that's what he'd heard his mom muttering under her breath while they drove home from the Schue's Christmas party for the Glee club and their families._

"_So... how's Glee?" Rachel asked. "My Dad doesn't talk about it at home. Mother doesn't like hearing about it."_

"_Okay, I guess. Everyone misses you."_

_Rachel looked thoughtful – maybe a little wistful? – for a second, then shook her head as she told him matter-of-factly, "They miss my talent." She looked at him with a tinge of pleading for understanding in her eyes. "I love Glee, I just don't see the point in wasting my energies somewhere they're not appreciated."_

"_I appreciate you," Finn told her instantly. "I miss you every rehearsal."_

_It was the honest truth, too. He did miss her. He missed her never-ending energy that somehow made him more awake, her boundless enthusiasm that always got him fired up to perform. Her complete faith in him, so different from Quinn's constant criticism – when Rachel was around, he felt like he could do anything. When Rachel did have something to critique, she always suggested a way to do better next time. He missed her smiles, both the ones that made him feel warm all the way through, and the smiles that made him feel like he could be better than just the too-big, too-clumsy stupid Lima loser. Most of all, he missed her singing, the music of her voice that touched places he didn't know he had before her._

_Searching for something to say, some way to persuade her, he stood up and walked to the head of the alley, before picking up Rachel's pink ball._

"_It's your last ball."_

_Rachel took it from him, and smiled._

"_Just do what you did before. Only better."_

_Rachel took a deep breath, and kissed the ball, before sending it spinning down the lane. She did everything she had the first time – in fact, everything she shouldn't – but it__** was**__ better. She actually made a strike!_

_Finn laughed in disbelief, and turned to Rachel, who was jumping up and down in jubilation. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to open his arms and sweep her up in a hug._

_When her lips met his, it felt more than natural. It felt like something he'd been born to do. She tasted like pepperoni and strawberry lip gloss and something beneath that was sweet and tangy all at once, and Finn was addicted with just one taste. Craving more, he gently traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, asking for entrance. They parted, just slightly, and he did it again. Rachel had to give him this, he couldn't take it. Just as her lips opened enough to give him access, he remembered where they were – and why they were here in the first place. _

_Finn hastily broke off the kiss, and dazedly realized that the world hadn't stopped after all. They'd only kissed twice._

"_Come back to Glee," Finn asked simply._

_"But what about Quinn? I know she wants to get back together with you."_

_"I don't know what's going to happen with Quinn. But we miss you in Glee. We __**need**__ you in Glee."_

"_I'll have to quit the play."_

"_I'll help you with the play," Finn offered immediately. "I can join the crew, or something. Or you could just do Glee part-time – Mr. Schue could help you with the choreography at home, couldn't he? And you can come back full time after you're finished with the play. I mean, you started off doing both anyway, right?"_

_It wasn't fair to make her quit something she wanted and deserved – something that Quinn couldn't steal the spotlight at – just because he wanted so badly to go to Sectionals, and prove that he'd made the right choice in bucking the high school caste system. _

"Thank you, by the way," Rachel told him. "For persuading me to come back to Glee. If I hadn't, then I wouldn't have become such good friends with Kurt and Mercedes. They were the main reasons I became close to Tina, Mike and Artie, too. The very thought of trying to survive high school without them having my back... well, it gives me the shivers, to be honest."

"I dunno, Rach. When I recruited Kurt and Mercedes after Mr. Ryerson got fired and you took over, they had a lot of fun. That's why they came back for 'Grease' the next year, and brought Tina and Artie too. Then Mike joined up for 'West Side Story' last year, right?"

Rachel smiled back and nodded. "I have to admit, being able to claim that I needed to work on this year's musical was a great escape for me from all the wedding mania." She laughed and added, "Remember the Jets baseball cap you sent me, as my first NYC present from you? Well, it's kind of become my trademark during the musical productions, and I use it every rehearsal and meeting. It's my official Boss Hat – whenever I put it on, everyone knows I'm acting as a Person In Charge, not part of the cast. Even Principal Figgins recognizes it; he saw me wear it last week, and asked if I was still working on the final layout for the program."

"What are you putting on this year?"

Rachel's smile turned into a mischievous grin. " 'Anything Goes'."

* MOH *

"Are you sure that it's okay for you to be taking me home?" Rachel asked anxiously as she fastened her seatbelt. "I can just call Emma to pick me up like we originally planned – aren't you designated driver?"

"S'Okay," Finn told her. "We all came in my car, so they're not going anywhere without me. Besides, judging by past experience they'll all be going strong for another hour at least. I'll be back long before then."

As the car pulled out onto the road, Rachel leaned her head back against the headrest, and let her mind drift, lulled by Finn's company and the music playing from the radio.

Maybe it was because they'd just left the bowling alley where they'd spent so much time, or maybe it was because Bruce Springsteen's 'I'm On Fire' had just started playing, but Rachel found herself remembering the first time Finn had taken her home from Lima Lanes.

_Finn was quiet after their kiss, and Rachel worried all the way home. She made a few attempts to start a conversation on the way back, but they were all feeble and she couldn't blame Finn for not taking them up._

_Was he sorry that he'd kissed her, and about to ask her not to tell anyone about it? Did he feel guilty for kissing Quinn's sister, because her kiss had been enough to make him decide to reconcile with her? Was he feeling like a__ pedophile__, because he still thought of her as an eighth-grader in pigtails?_

_Finn pulled over to the curb outside her house, leaving the engine running. _

_On the radio, Bruce Springsteen sang about having a bad desire._

_Rachel stared at her hands, folded in her lap._

_Finn stared at his hands, still locked around the steering wheel._

_"Rachel… I shouldn't have kissed you. But that kiss was real. I hope you know that."_

_"It was my first kiss," Rachel told him softly. Finn looked at her in alarm - but she didn't sound sad, or anything. Neither of them said anything more, and the silence filled the car, until Rachel undid her seatbelt and opened the door._

_After she climbed out, she bent down to look at him through the open passenger-side window. A soft smile curved her lips as she added, "You haven't said you're sorry."_

_"That would be a lie," Finn confessed. "It was a really nice kiss."_

_Rachel's smile grew just a little. "Yes, it was. Thank you for that."_

_"You're welcome."_

_"Well, goodnight Finn."_

_"Goodnight, Rachel."_

"Rachel? We're here."

Rachel jumped, staring at Finn. "Oh! I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Finn smiled. He looked at her darkened house, and added, "Given what's been waiting for you at home these days, I'm not surprised you don't want to go in until the last minute."

Rachel bit her lip, not wanting to leave the warm, dark and cozy space she shared with Finn. Taking a deep breath and filling her lungs with his scent (she was so glad he'd finally switched from Drakkar Noir), she gathered her nerve and climbed out of the car.

She bent down to look through the opening of the door, and asked, "I'll see you Saturday night at your place?"

Finn nodded and smiled. "Mom's already planning what to serve up for dinner, and Kurt's already picking out movies that have nothing to do with weddings or romance."

"Well, goodnight Finn."

"Goodnight, Rachel."

As always, Finn's car didn't pull away until she'd safely shut the front gate. Humming 'My Secret Love' under her breath, Rachel made her way along the fence and into the garden that ran down the side of the house, before sitting down in the lovely little gazebo that had been her Dad's first Christmas present to Emma after she'd officially moved in. She huddled into the knee-length heather gray wool coat that Kurt had personally selected for her, and sighed wistfully as she stared up at the moon. Hopefully, the cold air would do her some good.

This was something she hadn't been able to talk to anyone about, even Kurt. He knew about her love for Finn, and her yearning to be his love in return. But he didn't know about her longing for Finn – her **need**. Her craving to taste his kiss, her hunger to feel his hands on her body, and to feel his skin beneath her fingertips. Rachel was dealing with her own burgeoning physical desire on top of years of unrequited love, and the strain was beginning to tell on her.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the rumbling of a car engine, almost in her ear. This wasn't the cars typical of her quiet suburban street, but a muscle car, something that Vin Diesel (Kurt's guilty pleasure lust object) would drive in one of his movies.

The fence was made of brick with inserts of decorative ironwork spaced along the top. Rachel stood on the gazebo bench, but couldn't quite see over the fence. Going up on her tiptoes, she blessed her years of ballet training for giving her superb balance, holding onto the ironwork that made up the supports for the gazebo roof for extra security.

She was glad of it when she saw who was getting out of the car – someone wearing her 'Wicked' jacket, **and** her Jets cap! Then she took a closer look at the inside of the car, illuminated by the ceiling light, and gasped out loud when she recognized Noah Puckerman. How was he even able to walk, let alone drive, after all the rum and Cokes he'd had at the alley?

Then the girl wearing Rachel's clothes turned around, and Rachel lost her balance in shock, her grip on the gazebo framework the only thing keeping her from tumbling off the bench.

It was Quinn.


	4. Chapter 4

SIX DAYS TO GO!

Friday afternoon

Blushing Brides Bridal Shoppe

Quinn stood in front of the huge mirror that Rachel, Santana and Brittany had stared into in horror just four days ago, wearing her dupioni silk wedding dress. Santana and Brittany were standing on the other side of Quinn, pinkies linked and smiling in admiration. Or maybe it was relief that Quinn had firmly told her mother to go find something else to do, claiming this particular time as bridal party only.

The attendant gently handed Rachel the delicate tiara, made of white gold curlicues and flowers (22 carats - Terri had, once again, insisted. The only reason it wasn't 24 was that the jeweler had told her it wouldn't support the veil). Rachel gently placed it on Quinn's head, and Angela (they'd finally given up on professional distance after the Dresses of Doom episode) skillfully attached the elbow-length veil.

Quinn performed a three-quarter turn, and laughed in delight. "It's perfect! I'm going to be perfect!"

Rachel couldn't help but smile at Quinn's joy. Despite the horror show her life had become thanks to Quinn's dream wedding, she did love her sister, and it felt good to see her so happy. Also, Quinn was right; the dress, with its modest neckline, lantern sleeves and full, frothy skirt was perfect – for her.

For herself, though? Rachel wanted something – well, more dramatic, as befitted her personality. Maybe something reminiscent of the 1940's, when Broadway's Golden Age had begun? Or maybe with a bodice like the one on the lovely wine-colored dress she'd worn to Carole and Burt's wedding; even fashion-oblivious as he was, Finn would recognize something about the cut, and it would bring back good memories for him. She definitely wanted gold stars on the dress, though, either as appliqué or embroidery.

This was only one of the reasons she was glad to have a talented fashion designer as her best friend.

Rachel looked at Quinn's veil critically. Definitely not. Firstly, she didn't want anything between her and Finn on their wedding day, not even for a moment, and since Finn didn't seem to realize that he'd grown out of his clumsiness (though not, unfortunately, his gracelessness on the dance floor), he would probably be terrified of ripping the veil. It would be Finn's day, too, and she wanted him to be comfortable. Second, even if it wasn't on the Bellagio's terrace, Rachel wanted an outdoors ceremony – either in Central Park or Lima's Faurot Park (maybe with the reception in the concert pavilion?) and if the day was windy she'd spend half her time pulling the veil out of her face.

By then, she'd probably have grown her hair out to the length it was when she started high school... maybe a barrette, shaped like a gold star – no, three smaller ones in a row – to hold back the top part of her hair, with either a flower attached or maybe even a small vine of silk flowers trailing down the main part of her hair?

Rachel resolved to ask Kurt to put the idea in his wedding notebook for future reference. They could discuss it once they knew the wedding was actually going to happen.

Rachel was brought back to the present by Quinn's voice.

"I'm glad the old lace shade works. I always dreamed I'd be married in white, but that's impossible now, thanks to Puck."

Rachel was very glad her face wasn't reflected in the mirror right then.

Quinn's Christian beliefs had always been important to her – ostentatiously so, back in high school, including celibacy before marriage. But Quinn didn't sound regretful – she sounded **smug**. Not only that, Rachel's trained ear had caught a certain... timbre, in the way she said Noah's nickname. Maybe she was imagining things, thanks to what she'd seen last night? But either way, Rachel was still deeply suspicious of Quinn's facade. Cold feet was a common phenomenon among brides, but no truly committed bride had mysterious late-night assignations with another man – not to mention, a man who she'd been involved with sexually, against all her loudly-proclaimed beliefs, and had been subsequently disgraced by it becoming known publically. Not to mention, Rachel had sometimes caught a flicker of expression on Noah's face that made her wonder if he was as really past his intense but short-lived teenage relationship with Quinn as he claimed.

At the risk of sounding like a Bronte sisters heroine, Rachel was aware of a vague sense of lurking dread. As well as an increasing sense of doubt about a decision she'd previously made.

Rachel wanted a cream or magnolia shade wedding dress herself, because she fully intended to be ineligible to wear white. Just because she wanted to wait until they were both established in their chosen careers and confident in their adulthood to make a ceremonial and legal commitment to Finn, she saw no reason to wait to commit herself to him physically. In fact, she thought it would make their wedding preparations easier, knowing that they'd already worked out all the kinks of their life together, so to speak.

But if virginity was so inconvenient that even **Quinn** was more satisfied to be without it, then... was she being silly, waiting? Rachel was still a virgin because she'd chosen to be; because she wanted her first time to be with Finn. She'd intended her maidenhead to be a gift to him, both to prove her commitment to her love for him and to show just how long she'd known they were meant to be together. Would he cherish her virginity, and be gratified that she'd waited for him? Or would he just be uncomfortable with her lack of experience, and nervous about initiating her into lovemaking?

Santana's voice broke her out of her contemplation, "I can't believe Puck's going to be a groomsman at your wedding, for fuck's sake."

Brittany tilted her head and commented, "I'm just glad he's still alive. Your Mom really doesn't like him. Sort of like the way Lord Tubbington always turns his food bowl upside down if the tuna isn't dolphin-safe."

Rachel frowned as she dug her phone out of her pocket. "I'm just stepping outside for a moment," she excused herself.

Quinn was too busy admiring her perfect reflection to notice.

Rachel leaned against the cool bricks of the building, letting the frosty air cool her heated face for a moment, before punching the speed dial of her phone. As she listened to the ring, she let herself slide down the wall. Slumping onto the cold ground, she waited with bated breath for the one voice she wanted – and needed – to hear at that moment.

"Hello?"

"Tell me it's worth it."

"Rachel? What's going on? Where are you?" Finn's voice was loaded with concern.

"I'm at the bridal shop with Quinn, Santana and Brittany. Quinn's obsessing over her dress and lack of virginity and I just couldn't take it anymore."

"Um, her lack of virginity?" Finn asked, unsure of just what Rachel meant by that.

"You know how important the Celibacy Club and Christian Crusaders were to her, so I always thought she'd be upset and ashamed that she technically isn't allowed to wear white on her wedding day, but she's not. She sounded almost – well, smug, when she was talking about losing her virginity to Noah. She doesn't regret it at all." She hesitated, aware that she could be about to bring up a sore point, before asking, "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you regret your first time being with Santana?" The words came out quietly, and if Finn hadn't been listening so carefully, he might have missed them.

Finn replied instantly, not even needing to think about his answer. "Hell, yeah. I thought I'd feel so great after, like a stud, but I felt **nothing**, and I knew right away it was because **she** meant nothing."

"So you wish you had waited for the right person?"

"Definitely. It would have meant so much more, you know?"

"I do. That's how I've always felt. I know I'm ready, I'm just waiting for the right person." Rachel thought it best not to add that **he** was the right person for her.

"Well I can guarantee that if you find someone who'll mean something to you, it'll make the experience that much better for both of you." He sounded almost bitter as he continued, "Trust me, I know. For Santana, it was just her working towards her goal of bedding the entire football team by the time she graduated high school."

Almost instantly, a long ago memory popped into her mind, one from the first year of Glee club. She'd been passing Quinn's bedroom door, and she hadn't been eavesdropping, but it was kind of hard **not** to hear Finn's yelling.

"_Let me get this straight - you have sex with my best friend while you're dating me, and you expect me to forgive you and take you back. You find out I slept with someone after we break up, and you decide I'm not good enough for you? What, did you think my virginity would make up for the fact you don't have it anymore?"_

"Rachel, get back in here!" Quinn called from her doorway. "I need you to practice fixing my train."

Rachel sighed. "I have to go. I'm needed back in bridal hell."

Finn chuckled at her words. "Good luck."

* MOH *

Several hours later, Quinn's flashy red car pulled into the driveway of their home. As they walked up to the front door, they saw that Rachel's Golf had been blocking their view of another, older-model vehicle.

"Wait, stop," Rachel told her in alarm. "That's Mother's car. What's she doing here?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Um, visiting us?"

"But Emma's at her group therapy session, and Dad's car isn't here either. How did she get into the house?"

Quinn frowned as she unlocked the front door. "How did she get – never mind. Emma told me this morning that her car was making funny noises, so she was going to borrow Dad's car and not to expect him to run errands, and he was going to be incommunicado anyway, while he works on stuff for Regionals."

Rachel frowned to herself. "We really need to get the playlist settled by the end of next week. At least we're not doing Metallica."

Maybe she and Dad could work on it during their trip to New York next week? They'd had to cut it down to a day trip, because of the wedding, but there was still the drive to Columbus and the plane ride. She'd been awarded a solo, with Mercedes and Tina performing a duet, and Leah, Paula and Tyler featured on the group number. Kurt had sulked a little while, before realizing that this practically guaranteed him a solo spot at Nationals. It wasn't conceited to think that New Directions would be heading to Nationals, either; Dalton Academy had an excellent soloist in Blaine, but due to their acapella delivery all their songs tended to sound the same, and Aural Intensity was far behind both of them vocally, depending on playing to the judges (Rachel was convinced they had a contact in the Show Choir Events office, who tipped them off as to who was judging every heat they entered).

"Metallica? Are you serious?" Quinn asked as they walked down the hall. "No, wait, don't even tell me. Just tell me that the members of New Directions singing at the reception are keeping strictly to the set list I chose."

Rachel grinned. "Never fear. I even worked out a new arrangement of 'I was born to love you' for your bridal dance. Dad's been coaching Artie personally on 'Butterfly kisses' for your father-daughter dance."

"There you are!"

With a silent sigh, Rachel automatically braced herself as she turned to face her mother, seated on the couch and looking as ominous as one of the Fates from Greek mythology.

"I had to work this morning, and guess who came in? Sandy Ryerson."

"Well that's no surprise," Quinn answered. "Wasn't he the first person in Ohio to reach ten thousand points on his Sheets 'n' Things loyalty card?"

"He also lives across the street and two houses down. Which was why, when he was woken by a muscle car trying to break the sound barrier last night, he went to his bedroom window to see who was driving."

"Does he keep his binoculars on the bedside table with the pornography, or by the window?" Rachel asked dryly.

"Neither. He only needed his glasses to recognize you, Rachel. As well as who was driving the car. It's not as if there's many people in Lima sporting mohawks, after all."

Rachel went cold all over, as a single icy thought ripped through her mind.

That was why Quinn had needed her things, the jacket and cap that were so easily identified as Rachel's.

Her coldly furious gaze met her sister's, and Quinn went pale in realization.

Her mother strode across the room, standing in the wide gap between Rachel and Quinn, and faced her younger daughter.

"**Noah Puckerman**, of all people! Your sister is getting married in six days!" Terri's eyes narrowed, and she spat, "At this exact time six days from now, we will be in the Top Hat Ballroom of the Lima Grand Hotel, and everyone in the room will be talking about what a beautiful wedding it was, and how wonderful the reception is, and how they don't know how I did it all. They will not be uttering a single syllable about how my underage daughter has been slutting around town with the biggest man-whore in Lima!"

Rachel froze, as the implications rushed through her mind. She had an alibi – Finn would be able to confirm he'd brought her home, as well as what time. If pressed, Sandy would have to admit he'd identified her by her jacket and cap, not her features.

But Quinn? How would Terri react if she realized that the wedding she'd become obsessed with was being endangered – by just about the only person in the production who couldn't be replaced?

Even as Rachel looked at Quinn, looking for a cue, she realized that it didn't matter anyway. Rachel, with her deep emotional needs, her drive for greatness and passion for music, had always been her father's daughter in more ways than one. But Quinn had always been the daughter that Terri wanted.

It wouldn't do any good to defend herself. Her mother would never believe it.

"You can act like a tramp on your own time. This is your sister's wedding, and it will be **perfect**! Until Quinn leaves on her honeymoon, there will be no more late night backseat bops, no Noah Puckerman and no chance of a scandal. Until the morning of March 9, consider yourself on lockdown. Unless you are on the grounds of McKinley High or chaperoned by your sister or myself while doing something useful to contribute to her wedding, you don't leave this property, **do you understand me**?"

Rachel felt herself go even colder, if possible. Drawing on every ounce of maturity she possessed, she took a deep breath and made her voice cool and reasonable as possible.

"Mother, I have necessary arrangements for March 7. I daresay you don't remember-"

"No, I don't – and I don't care. The wedding is far more important than whatever pointless teenage plans you want to waste your time with. This is the foundation of your sister's entire life."

Rachel felt something tear inside her, as if an invisible hand had pushed into her body and ripped out an organ. Oddly enough, it didn't really hurt, as frost instantly coated the raw bed of flesh that had once held something living and vital. Maybe because she'd lost something that wasn't really very important to her anymore.

Rachel gazed calmly and coolly at the virago in front of her, and saw nothing but an annoyance. She was simply an obstacle to be overcome on the way to her glittering future on the Broadway stage.

"I think you should go now," she informed the intruder. "I believe the rightful occupants of this house have made it clear that you're not welcome here."

Terri spat, "School, this house, or wedding activities. Nowhere else."

Storming past Rachel, she paused only to snap at Quinn, "Don't get drunk in Columbus. I don't want you looking tired or sick in the wedding photos."

Then the door slammed like a thunderbolt, leaving Rachel and Quinn staring at each other across the living room.

Rachel looked Quinn dead in the eyes. Even as her sister's mouth was opening to utter of a denial of what they both knew was true, Rachel remarked, "If you're going to the effort of stealing my clothes in order to frame me for your infidelity, don't you think it would have been wiser not to use a car so noisy it wakes up half the street? Or... was this your intention, Quinn? You just don't want me to get out of Lima, because – what? You're jealous? Or just because it makes you look less pathetic?"

Rachel was no longer cold; she was burning up with fury. Step by step, she advanced on Quinn, backing her deeper into the living room.

"I didn't say anything at my seventeenth birthday party, when Sam's mother – who I'd never even **met** before – got into a huge fight with Terri about using dahlias or carnations in the floral arrangements for the ceremony, and ruined the party that she wasn't even invited to! I didn't create a public scene when I found out that Terri actually suggested that Dad use** my** college fund – that Daddy and Papa set up for me! - to pay for the reception, so she could get those stupid ice sculptures! '_After all, Rachel's so smart she'll get a scholarship anyway_!' " Rachel mimicked. Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she raised her arm and pointed her finger at Quinn, right at her nose. "You want to stay in this cesspit of civilization for the term of your natural life? Fine. Your choice. You want to spend your life as a real estate agent while running the governing board for the Chastity ball, and having a whole lot of middle class housewives who think they're rich bitches grovel before you? Fine. Your choice. But **I'm** not. I have real talent, and the determination to make a success out of it."

In her fury, Rachel's voice deepened to her lowest octave, and she stepped forward until she was deep into Quinn's personal space – and Quinn actually backed up, until she was against the wall. "I will** not** lose my dream. I will not sacrifice **my **future, because **you** couldn't keep your legs shut until after you signed the contracts to secure your eternal Trophy Wifehood."

For the first time in – well, ever – Quinn actually looked slightly afraid. Of Rachel!

In normal Rachel style, she would storm out of the room in her most epic fashion. But instead, she simply turned and walked away in dead silence.

When she reached her bedroom, she locked the door, and grabbed her phone.

* MOH *

Twenty minutes later, Tina was knocking at her bedroom window, being the only one agile enough to climb up the trellis and scramble across the porch roof. (On the rare occasions Rachel snuck out, Kurt had always refused to risk his clothes on the rose thorns.) Rachel all but dived out the window, and they ran through the garden to the back gate. Kurt was standing beside his Explorer, with Mercedes and Finn.

"From the sounds of your message, I thought I should rally the troops," Kurt explained. "I would have called Artie and Mike as well, but I got the impression that speed was of the essence."

Rachel nodded grimly, and scrambled in the backseat after Mercedes. Kurt bit his lip and tossed the keys to Finn, before joining the two fellow members of 'Team Diva', while Tina took shotgun.

As the car turned the corner, Kurt asked briskly, "So, where to? Tokyo Connection? The karaoke bar normally shuts down at ten, but I think we can bribe the owner to let us use it for a few hours."

Rachel was still white with fury, and shook her head. "Singing this out won't help."

Finn slammed on the brakes, before he joined everyone in the car in staring at her in horror.

"The entire Nightwish and Pantera back catalogue combined wouldn't get me through this."

Kurt's jaw dropped, and he went even paler than normal.

"I need to smash something. I need to shatter and break and destroy."

Finn swallowed. "I've got an idea."

* MOH *

Half an hour later, Rachel stood in the batting cage at McKinley High School, one of the JV baseball team's helmets on her head, while Finn placed his hands over hers on the grip of a silver baseball bat.

"Okay, I've set the machine to fire right into your strike zone, so you can get the best possible hit. Just keep your eye on the ball, and don't swing too soon. Keep the label facing up, or you'll break the bat."

Rachel's tuneful voice was tight and hard, and it made something hurt inside him. "Better get into the dugout with the others. I'm in the mood to hit a few wild balls."

Finn nodded, and ran out to where he'd set up the pitching machine. After putting it on a one-minute delay, he headed for the home team dugout, where Tina, Mercedes and Kurt were waiting. He sat down next to Kurt, and joined the others in staring out the window in trepidation.

"I set the machine for thirty balls. If she hasn't hit it out by then, we'll try something else. After about fifteen, she should start feeling the burn in her shoulders, because she's not used to this, so maybe that will help too."

"How'd you even get the equipment, anyway?" Kurt asked.

Finn shrugged. "Last summer, I helped Coach Bieste with the pre-season as a volunteer coach. I never got around to giving back my keys."

Tina bit her lip. "What the h-h-Hell is going on, Kurt?" Tina's stutter had disappeared freshman year, somewhere between Sectionals and Regionals. That it was actually resurfacing now showed just how upset she was.

A second hollow 'thwock' followed by a 'crack' echoed across to them.

Mercedes shook her head, and looked at the others. "I'm starting to get really scared, guys. I mean, our first Sectionals, when Coach Sylvester leaked our set list? Rachel was angry, yeah, but she just fired up and helped you," she nodded at Finn, "organize our last-ditch effort. And she nailed 'Don't rain on my parade' so hard that she carried along the rest of us in her wake to one of our best shows ever!"

A hollow 'thwock' followed by a 'crack' echoed across to them.

Kurt pulled out his phone, and brought up Rachel's message. "She just wrote 'Defcon 1 and rising. Get me out of here or I'm going to conduct a full dress rehearsal of Lizzie Borden: the musical!'." He looked at his brother, still pale. "Honestly, Finn, I've never seen her like this before."

Another hollow 'thwock' was followed by a 'crack' – and a crackling 'bang'. It was so loud that everyone in the dugout peered out to the field.

"Did she just... break the scoreboard?" Mercedes asked.

A hollow 'thwock' followed by a 'crack' echoed across to them, followed by a tinkling smash of glass.

"Is there even a glass window for her to break out here?" Tina asked.

"This is really, really, bad – and I don't just mean her aim with the ball," Kurt remarked.

Everyone else nodded in unison.

* MOH *

After the machine emptied, Finn led the others out of the dugout. Looking around cautiously, he saw Rachel sitting slumped on the lowest bleacher, staring into her lap. Kurt sat on one side, immediately taking her hand in his own. Mercedes sat on her other side, and Tina sat on the concrete riser near Rachel's feet, one leg tucked under her, the other dangling off the edge, heedless of her black lace stockings. Finn stood right behind Tina on the field itself, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, and his eyes locked on Rachel.

"So," Kurt ventured. "Can you tell us the problem, now?"

"Quinn's been sneaking around to work out her cold feet," Rachel's voice still had the music stripped from it. It made him hurt, everywhere in his body that could feel her sing. "She's been wearing my 'Wicked' cast jacket to do it, along with the Jets hat you gave me, Finn. So when that whackjob closet case Sandy Ryerson called up Terri to tell her all about it, he naturally told her that **I'm** the one who's been fucking around with Noah."

"Wait, Quinn and Puck? I thought all that shit got settled in first year glee!" Mercedes exclaimed.

Even in the midst of his annoyance with Quinn for pulling this overly dramatic crap – and setting up her sister for it – Finn wondered when Rachel had started referring to the woman who still called herself Mrs. Schuester by her first name. He knew that Terri hadn't been the most involved of parents since the divorce – in fact, he knew that Rachel only saw her a half-dozen times a year, even though they lived in the same town.

But then it came to him, in that odd flash of understanding he got about Rachel sometimes. Whatever Terri Schuester had said to Rachel tonight, it had caused Rachel to stop thinking of her as a parent. Their relationship had been broken past mending. From what he knew of Terri, she wouldn't even notice. He wondered if she was even intelligent enough to care.

"So, naturally, she threw a fit that hasn't been seen since my father divorced the crazy bitch. I'm confined to my house for anything that isn't school or Terri-approved wedding activities until Quinn's got the ring on her finger and everyone's telling Terri what a beautiful wedding she organized."

Kurt gasped in horror; obviously, the penny had dropped for him earlier than anyone else. "Wait, what about your audition?"

"She doesn't even **know** about it, Kurt," Rachel spat out. "She hasn't registered or even heard anything concerning my name since Quinn showed us that diamond on her finger last summer. Even if she did know, she wouldn't care." She laughed, and it was full of broken things that made Finn feel sick. "What's my entire future on a plate, compared to Quinn having the wedding of the year?"

"Wait, audition..." Mercedes sucked in a breath. "You mean your audition for Tisch?"

"The audition's on March 7. The wedding's on March 8."

"B-but you have to go!" Tina exclaimed. "You've been working for this forever!"

"What about Mr. Schue?" Finn asked. "I can't believe that he'd let her do this to you."

Rachel laughed bitterly. "Dad's fully occupied with preventing Terri from spending him into bankruptcy, keeping his job despite her constant interruptions, and stopping her from taking complete control of our lives again. I think it's taking almost everything he has to keep from going so completely over the edge that Emma runs like a scared rabbit. I know he'd never agree with Terri about this, but he's too worn out to actually stand up to her for me."

"So we'll take care of it," Finn told her.

Everyone looked at him, but it was the sudden, wild hope in Rachel's gaze that made his heart turn over.

High school – growing up, and discovering that he didn't need the approval of the football team to feel validated. That just being himself was a good thing, that he was a musician and athlete who became a leader and a man, through slushies and abuse and football victories and Glee trophies – had been miserable as hell, most of the time. But Rachel's gaze taught him all over again that growing up into the man he was now was worth it. Because that man could give this to her.

"Rachel, you need to go to New York City for this, right?" At her nod, Finn continued, "So once you've left town, on your way, is there anything she can do to stop you? I mean, she can't turn down the place on your behalf to get back at you or anything, right?"

Rachel shook her head. "She tries anything afterward, Dad can and will stop her. He just needs a few days to regain his equilibrium. I've got the plane tickets already booked; I wanted to stay overnight, but with the wedding..."

"Okay, so what time is the audition? How long will you need to stay?"

Rachel blew her nose. "Sometime around noon, I need to be there at ten AM. After the initial interviews come the call back auditions; that can be anytime from two PM up to ten PM, but I was told that out of state candidates usually get the early appointments. I'm pretty sure that showing them the wedding invitation and the plane ticket will help."

"So we need to pull off a double-play. Rachel, I'll get you to the audition. We'll sneak out of town, drive to Toledo, and I'll come with you on the plane. I can wait around while you audition, and drive you straight to whatever's happening when we get back. Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, you need to run interference. When the day comes, you need to keep Terri from finding out. Best case scenario, she won't even know Rachel's gone. We'll fill in Artie and Mike tomorrow, and you guys can bring Ms. Pillsbury in on this, if you have to – as the guidance counsellor, she should already know about it, right? She can tell Mr. Schue, keep him calm. If he knows I'm with her, that should help."

Rachel reached inside her jacket, and dug into the inside pocket. "I've got the Master Schedule here." Pulling out a sheaf of paper, she unfolded it and flicked through several pages.

"Geez, how big is that thing?" Tina gasped.

"Twenty A4 pages, all double-sided, then folded into an A5 booklet," Rachel said dryly. "Includes a date by date schedule of events, and details the personal responsibilities of everyone in the wedding party, including a list of who's supposed to attend what event." Finding the right page, she ran her finger along the paper. "Okay. The actual wedding rehearsal is the evening of the sixth. If it goes well, maybe I can appeal to Dad to let me stay over at your house, Kurt?"

"That would make things easier," Kurt agreed. "You could just get in Finn's truck and drive off after breakfast. Carole and my Dad would help cover for you if we need them to, I'm sure of it. But what if your – I mean, Terri – tells Mr. Schue that you're grounded?"

Rachel shrugged. "Nearly everything Terri says to him sort of goes in one ear and out the other these days, so if she tells him I'm grounded I doubt he'll actually do it. As long as I don't cause trouble by skipping a wedding event, Terri won't notice if I'm around or not. That brings us to the seventh. There's a final dress fitting in the morning – Kurt, can you get her to let you deal with that?"

Kurt nodded. "Santana and Brittany hate their dresses even more than you do. They'll help out just to foil Terri."

"Then there's something about categorising wedding presents – but I don't need to be involved in that, it's just Terri, Quinn and Kendra, probably gloating over the loot. That's it until the pre-wedding cocktail party and supper, in the same ballroom at the Grand that we'll be having the reception in. It's supposedly an informal buffet without any organized seating, so if I miss it, hopefully there will be too many people milling around for Terri to be sure if I'm there or not."

"So, we have a plan?" Finn asked.

Everyone nodded, and Rachel smiled. Her real smile, and everything that was wound up and hurting inside him, loosened and went back to normal.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry about the delay in releasing this part; it was my older brother's birthday this weekend, and the party took up a lot of time! Thank you so much to everyone who has favorited and alerted my story, and an extra-special THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed me!_

D-DAY!

March 7

Finn was yawning as they drove away at 6AM, with Carole and Kurt waving them off before heading back to bed. Rachel was going through the backpack she'd given Kurt two days ago and asked to keep for her, in case Terri ambushed her for being in public.

"Alright. There's the copy of my application form and all the paperwork in the pink folder. Check. In the gold star folder, my sheet music for the singing review, including alternates in case someone has the same pieces, check. Copies of my monologues for the drama review, check. My yoga pants and tank top for the dance review, check. My wallet, check. Airline tickets, check." Rachel gasped in horror, "Oh no!"

"What?" exclaimed Finn, almost running over the curb.

Rachel looked at him, aghast. "You're allowed to wear whatever you wish for the acting and singing reviews, but I need a proper costume to be comfortable, and I couldn't bring a real dress with me – I could only fit the dance review outfit in my bag. Finn, I'm in a denim mini and a sweater for traveling; I'll be okay for the interview, but I can't audition like this! I'd spend the entire time distracted by how unprofessional I looked. Is there any chance we could find something in the airport stores? They're bound to have something at JFK-"

"Rachel, it's cool." Finn grinned and nodded to the back of the car. "Back seat."

Ignoring the traffic laws for possibly the first time in her life, Rachel unfastened her seatbelt and scrambled into the backseat, almost falling onto the garment bag that was spread across it. Hastily, she unzipped it, only to freeze in horror at the first glimpse of cerise.

"Finn, this is my maid of honor dress! I'll be laughed off the stage!"

"Have a look at the whole thing - Kurt told me that he performed an emergency surgery on it. He'll do the same thing for Santana and Brittany at the final dress fitting this morning, he said, as a public service."

Well, if Kurt said he'd taken care of it... Rachel unzipped it all the way, and found... no ruffles whatsoever. Not a single oversized bow. No thick bands of sequins, and the floor-length empire-waisted sash was now only a couple of fingers wide, tying in a cute bow beneath her bust. With the ruffles gone, the sleeves came halfway down the bicep, and Kurt had used some of the excess material from the satin sash to make them into lantern sleeves to match Quinn's. The satin also edged a much lower-cut neckline, which now bordered on racy without crossing over it. It looked like Kurt had cut the skirt to above-knee-length, too, so at least she wouldn't trip over it, and used more of the satin for a narrow trim on the new hem.

"Okay, well, this is much better. I'm not sure how good I'll actually look, but at least I won't make anyone else faint." Rachel sighed in relief, and climbed back into the front passenger seat.

As they left Lima city limits, Journey's 'Don't Stop Believing' came on, and Rachel laughed. "Brings back memories, huh?"

Finn laughed back. "This was the first song we ever sang together."

"_Thank you so much for picking me up from ballet, Finn," Rachel told him politely. "I really appreciate it. I don't mind the walk at all, but after a long class it can be very tiring."_

"_It's okay, Rachel. It's pretty much on the way to my house, anyway."_

_Only if he came straight from school, though. Finn had actually been home already, when Quinn called him up and demanded he pick Rachel up, because there was no way she could let the Cheerios leave the field after the pathetic practice they'd had._

_He didn't save his game, drag on his sneakers and do it because of Quinn. He did it because his heart twisted in his chest at the thought of tiny Rachel anxiously waiting outside her dance studio for a ride that would never come (and knowing Rachel, she'd spend twenty minutes dreading that Quinn had been in an accident, before it ever occurred to her that maybe Quinn had just been thoughtless enough to stand her up), before sadly walking home, dragging her feet the whole way._

_Little did they know, between ballet, voice, and rehearsals, this would be only the first of many car trips they'd take together. Quinn didn't like rearranging her life to accommodate her sister's activities, and saw no reason to when she had an obliging boyfriend to do it for her._

_As they turned onto the main road, Rick Springfield's 'Jesse's Girl' came on the radio._

"_Oh, I love this song!" Finn exclaimed, turning up the volume. Four bars later, Finn started singing along._

_Rachel watched him in utter fascination the whole time, admiring his natural performance. Yes, his technique was fairly raw, but there was something appealing in his unaffected delivery that seemed to bring out the emotions behind the song even more._

_At the end of the song, Finn ended with an imitation drum-noise, and only then seemed to remember his passenger._

"_Oh, Rachel! Man, I didn't annoy you, did I? I bet someone as talented as you must get really annoyed at having to listen to amateurs."_

"_Not at all," Rachel reassured him. "I really enjoyed your performance, Finn. You're very talented. I should know; I'm very talented too!"_

"_Okay, then, next song playing that you like is your turn!"_

_That started the tradition, each of them taking turns to perform for the other. Finn sang REO Speedwagon, Van Halen, KISS, Bruce Springsteen, and - for a more modern mood – Dashboard Confessional. Rachel preferred Pat Benatar, Patty Smyth, 20__th__ century Madonna, and surprised Finn by finding a couple of CD's by The Runaways, although she refused to sing the more provocative lyrics. She tried introducing him to some of her Broadway soundtracks too, but had no luck until she stumbled on a recording for a current Off-Broadway production called 'Rock of Ages'. _

_Two more ballet class round trips, three voice lessons, and four rehearsals playing young Cosette in the community theatre's production of 'Les Miserables', and Finn introduced Rachel to Journey. Unable to hold back in the face of his enthusiasm any more, Rachel joined him in improvising a duet arrangement to 'Don't Stop Believing'._

_Almost a year later, Rachel would realize that was when she fell in love with Finn Hudson._

"I think it's a good omen," Finn declared.

Rachel smiled, nodded, and resisted the urge to lunge across the seat and kiss him senseless. "I think so too."

"Hey Rach? I get why we're going to Toledo instead of Columbus; it's almost half an hour less to drive. But why aren't we just going to Fort Wayne or Dayton International? They're even closer."

Rachel shrugged. "They also don't have direct flights to JFK today. I don't know for sure how late in the afternoon my audition is going to be – it's feasible that the world doesn't actually revolve around Quinn's wedding, and we won't be getting home until after midnight. Worst case scenario, your Mom promised she'd back up Dad and Emma in supporting my cause."

Finn smirked. "Y'know, part of me almost wishes she has to. I think Artie's going to have his video camera on him tonight, and if not Kurt would totally record the video on his phone for us later."

* MOH *

TISCH SCHOOL OF THE ARTS

NEW YORK UNIVERSITY

New York City

3pm

Rachel took a deep breath as she quickly paced the corridor, walking off her buzz – it was a tricky business, using up nervous energy in order to remain composed on stage, while leaving enough to fuel your performance.

She was sure that she'd made a good impression in the interview – at the very least, she'd impressed the committee enough to get called back for the auditions. There had been several people in the dance review who'd been better than her, but she'd expected that, and she still felt that she'd done well. Her drama review had gone off without a hitch, and she made a mental note to stop by the Godiva boutique nearest JFK to get Tina and Mercedes a Gold Ballotin box each to thank them for all their help running lines for her.

But the singing review was the one she felt would be the deciding factor. She was a talented actress and dancer, yes, but it was in singing that she was truly gifted.

Turning back, she checked the time and decided to head for the auditorium. She badly wished that Finn was with her, but the rules forbade anyone but the people auditioning from being present. Also, Finn had her phone, and part of her was paranoid about whether they'd been missed yet. Even after explaining the situation to one of the proctors, this was the earliest time she'd been able to get for her final review. If she and Finn couldn't get to JFK by four PM and missed their flight, they wouldn't make it to the party until after nine PM, and that would lead to problems.

Slipping through the doors, she discreetly made her way over to the wall, intent on using the furthest aisle to make her way to the front rows, where the aspiring students had to wait. Just as she reached the corner, she heard a voice.

"Psst, Rachel!"

Almost jumping out of her skin, Rachel looked wildly towards the corner. She hadn't noticed it earlier, but there was an opening to a set of stairs, hidden by the darkness. Service stairs for ushers or stage techs, maybe? There was only one person in New York City right now who knew her name, but moving to the stairs, she was still astonished to find Finn lurking in the stairwell.

"How did you get in?" she asked in disbelief.

"I'm a student here, remember? I showed the sleepiest-looking proctor my student I.D., told him I was the alternate accompanist. It says right on the card I'm a music major."

"But the accompanist is for piano only! You play drums and guitar!"

"It doesn't mention that on my student I.D." Finn smiled and shrugged. "I really needed to be here for this part, Rachel, to watch you."

Rachel smiled, and threw herself into his arms for a hug.

After they pulled apart, Finn nodded to the front. "I think they're calling you next. Break a leg."

Rachel smiled, and couldn't hold back any longer. As the words spilled from her lips, it felt almost as if she'd been born for this moment; born to say these words to this man. "I love you."

Then she turned and strolled down to the stage, feeling like she was walking on air.

Nothing could bring her down. Nothing could stop her.

* MOH *

Finn sat down hard on the step, his head whirling. It didn't cross his mind for a second that Rachel had meant that she loved him like a friend or brother. No, Rachel meant that in an 'I'm in love with you, my heart is yours forever' kind of way.

Holy **shit**. When had this happened?

Almost as if he was answering himself, a torrent of memories ran through his mind, of countless split-second moments, words and images and even of the way Rachel looked at him at least once every time she sang a love song. Even things that Kurt had said, hinting at something he wished Finn would understand because he couldn't say it himself.

Holy **shit**. How had he not seen this before?

The piano spilled a waterfall of notes, and Finn stood, descending the stairs to stand at the base and see the stage clearly. He knew this song.

The spotlight suited Rachel Berry, and as she sang 'On My Own', Finn realized for the first time why she had always given it such a heartbreakingly hopeful quality. It was because of him, the way she felt about him; she'd used her love for him – love that she had no idea if it would ever be returned – as fuel in her interpretation of the song.

A single tear ran down his cheek, and as he wiped it away, the piano rang out again.

This time he grinned. Their first true competition in Glee Club, Coach Sylvester had leaked their set list, and they'd sat in horror as they watched their competition perform the songs they'd worked so hard on. Rachel and Finn's connection had kicked into high gear, and they'd rallied the club to put together an alternative set list. Rachel had been thrust into the opening solo with no rehearsal, only a song by her idol that she'd been working on since before her fathers had died.

Rachel was belting the song out now; the lyrics that said no one could hold her back, that she was going to pursue her dream come what may, that she would make her own destiny come true.

Finn smiled. It was so simple, really, the answer to every question.

It was Rachel. It had always been Rachel.

Rachel had left the stage, and was walking up the sloping theatre floor towards him. When she was halfway up, Finn held out his arms. Rachel gave him a two-million-watt smile and ran to him.

When she reached him, she flung her arms around his neck at the same time she jumped up, and Finn caught her just in time to balance her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Before he could congratulate himself on not dropping her, Rachel's lips were on his.

It was even better than in the bowling alley all those years ago. Except this time? Finn was prepared to swear on Keith Moon's drumsticks that the world really did stop.

When they finally broke for air, Finn couldn't help but smile.

Why hadn't he realized it before? It was so **obvious**! It was the easiest thing to say in the world.

"I love you too, Rachel. I have from the first time I heard you sing."

"Finn, I was thirteen years old!" she giggled.

"Why do you think I've been in denial about it for so long?"

* MOH *

Hudson-Hummel Residence (aka Hudmel Manor)

8pm

"How do I look?"

"Devastatingly handsome," Rachel said, lovingly smoothing the lapels of his suit coat.

Given the early-morning start, Finn had completely forgotten to bring his clothes for the party, and there was no way he could go to the cocktail party in jeans and a polo shirt. Luckily, Hudmel Manor (as Artie had dubbed it years ago) was on the way to the Lima Grand.

Finn blushed, before he told her, "I called Puck while I was changing. No one's missed us yet, but Mr. Schue's already asked Kurt once if you came with our family. Kurt said that they'd dropped you off at home to change. I asked Puck to create a distraction if necessary. God knows there's nothing he likes better than creating chaos."

Finn offered her one end of the black tie slung around his neck with a pleading look, and Rachel quickly tied it perfectly. Still holding its length, she used it to pull his head down to hers.

Finn tried not to moan as his drowned in sensations; the scent of vanilla perfume, the warmth of Rachel's skin, and most of all the sweet, tangy taste he'd already privately dubbed 'rachel-berry'.

They'd been constantly sneaking kisses ever since the auditorium; in the taxi to JFK, in the waiting area at the gate, at every stoplight on the way back from Toledo. They'd had to refrain on the flight, after the sour-looking man who'd been seated across from them in the waiting area had walked past them upon boarding and made a loud comment about the Mile High Club, causing the flight attendant to look at them suspiciously. That hadn't stopped them from holding hands the entire flight though, nor did it give Rachel a moment's worry when she fell asleep with her head on Finn's shoulder.

A quick drive later, they arrived at the Lima Grand Hotel. The ballroom was down a short hallway from the main reception area, and the heavy doors were shut. If they approached that way, the effort of opening the doors would probably attract the attention of everyone near the doorway; no possibility of a discreet entrance.

Thankful once again that she'd scouted out the area so carefully, Rachel took Finn's hand and towed him along to the hallway that held the bathrooms, and an entrance to the kitchens. Nodding politely to the busy staff as they walked through, she looked at Finn, put a finger to her lips, and carefully led him through the service entrance to the ballroom.

Their super-stealth entrance was a wasted effort, because the entire place was in an uproar. Terri was having flamboyant hysterics, and Will was staring off into space in shock, almost literally tearing his hair out while Emma rubbed his back soothingly and tried to offer him a glass of ice water. Sam's mother was screeching so loudly that it was impossible to make out what she was actually saying, and Sandy Ryerson (why had he even been invited to this, anyway?) was waving his hands in the air and crying out something about... Cleopatra?

"Holy shit, I asked Puck to cause a distraction, not start a riot!"

Rachel looked around for the man in question, finding him tucked into a corner... with Quinn nestled in his arms, looking like it would take dynamite to pry them apart. Sam, on the other hand, rather than appearing distraught, was instead calmly leaning against the bar with a drink in hand, talking quietly with Matt, while Kurt, Mike and Artie leaned close with astonished expressions on their faces.

"I don't know what's going on here," Rachel said hurriedly. "But I think that if my mother sees me, she's immediately going to make this my fault for not being here to stop it."

With the agility of a solider avoiding border guards, Rachel ducked down behind the buffet table, her grip on Finn's hand pulling him down with her.

Finn nearly toppled over, catching himself on the floor with his free hand, before asking quietly, "So now what? We sneak out again?"

Rachel bit her lip and shook her head. "We just need to hide out until the dust settles. I want to be here for my father; dealing with this whole disaster has been making him slowly unravel for weeks now."

Rachel looked up and down the expanse of floor-length, baby-blue tablecloth, before reaching out to touch it a foot or so away. "Look, the tablecloth overlaps here, so we can slide through. The food is down that way, so you sneak us something to snack on, I'll grab a bottle from the drinks, and we'll wait out the commotion."

"Under the buffet table?"

"No one's going to look for us there. If someone – like my mother – asks later, I can say with all truthfulness that we were here, but she must have missed seeing me. Besides, I don't think I should let her see Kurt's emergency surgery on this dress while I can possibly avoid it."

Finn crawled down to the end of the table, and cautiously popped his head above the table to find himself facing stacks of side dishes and desserts. Dismissing the salads as too hard to carry and just plain boring, he filled a plate with buttered slices of bread, cocktail franks for him, mini quiches for her, and a whole bunch of those cheese cube things, and another plate with an assortment of pastries. Gently pushing them along the carpet in front of him, Finn reached the split in the tablecloth just in time to see Rachel disappearing underneath. Her heart-shaped backside waved enticingly right in front of his face, and Finn had to clench his teeth to hold back a groan.

Crawling underneath the table, Finn found it was actually fairly well lit, if slightly blue from filtering through the tablecloth. Trying to sit up, he bumped his head on the underside of the table.

"Oww..."

Rachel cooed softly as she grabbed his head in both hands and pulled it down to inspect the damage. Which gave Finn an excellent view of her cleavage, shown off by Kurt's improvement of the neckline. Finn swallowed hard as his pants tightened, and awkwardly half-fell back and onto his side to stretch out full length instead, balancing on his elbow, and making sure his suit jacket fell across his groin.

Rachel could sit up, albeit with her head slightly ducked, and curled her legs underneath her to lean on one hand. "You have your phone, don't you? I think we can risk a call to Kurt to find out the situation if we talk quietly."

Finn nodded, and struggled to pull out his phone. Beckoning Rachel closer, he settled the plates between them, while speed-dialing his brother.

"Kurt? What the hell's going on?"

"Finn? Where's Rachel – wait, are you here?"

Rachel leaned down to speak into the phone, giving Finn another excellent look down her cleavage – and a flash of white lace that made him catch his breath – and said, "Right here, Kurt. We took one look at the chaos and decided discretion was the better part of valor. We're in a strategic holding pattern – otherwise known as hiding."

"Dude, what the hell's going on? What's Quinn doing with Puck in public?"

"Marrying him, apparently." While Finn and Rachel's jaws dropped, Kurt continued. "It turns out that diamond Quinn's been sporting was from Puck all along! She and Sam broke up over a year ago, because he realized he was bisexual and wanted to explore dating another man. They've basically been faking a relationship to everyone in Lima to keep their respective mothers happy, even after she agreed to marry Puck. Quinn just wanted to get married with proper ceremony, and knew Terri wouldn't stop sabotaging the preparations if she knew it was with Puck, and Sam knew his mother didn't really care if he married, she just wanted a wedding, and thought this would get it out of her system until he or one of his siblings were ready to get married for real. Either that, or Terri would drive her so insane she'd decide that it wasn't worth it."

Rachel gasped. "That's why there's a celebrant, not a priest! There's no way Noah would agree to a solely Christian ceremony, and if they'd planned a bi-religious wedding it would be a dead giveaway!"

Kurt sounded like he was shrugging even over the phone. "The celebrant thought Sam was simply one of the groomsmen all along."

Rachel added, "That's why you're the Best Man, Finn, even though Quinn's your ex. Yes, you're friends with Sam, but no one else could be Noah's Best Man but you."

"I think you've hit the nail on the head, sweetie," Kurt remarked. "Ooh, gotta go. Terri's finally stopped screaming and Sam's mother is stalking towards her with murder in her eyes. No way am I going to miss this, bye!"

The line promptly went dead.

Finn balanced awkwardly on one elbow to put his phone back into his pocket, only to nearly drop it when he finally saw the bottle Rachel had purloined. "Holy shit, Rach, you stole champagne? I figured you'd go straight for the water."

"Well, everything non-alcoholic was in carafes, and I couldn't bring those without spilling something. Besides," Rachel gave him a shy half-smile, and shrugged, "This is supposed to be a celebration, isn't it?"

Finn grinned back. "Well, let's toast to you and your amazing audition."

He popped the cork the champagne, grateful that Rachel had remembered flutes also.

She held them up as he poured awkwardly, still balanced mostly on one elbow and knee for stability. Each pointedly ignored the screaming that was occurring outside their private sanctuary.

"_How dare you insinuate that my daughter is a cheap tramp?"_

"_She's as cheap as these table linens you claim came straight from Egypt!"_

"_Then it's just as well that you didn't put any actual effort into this wedding, then!"_

An audible gasp was heard just as Finn finished pouring the champagne. Their champagne flutes clinked together, drowning out the sound of a bare hand forcibly striking a face.

"To Rachel."

Neither of them noticed the commotion outside, too wrapped up in each other. Unlike their counterparts outside, their own arms intertwined, making them connected as they took their first sips, gazing into each other's eyes.

Rachel lowered her glass. "I liked your toast, Finn, but it wasn't accurate."

"How so?"

She smiled, picking up her glass again and held it up. "You said 'To Rachel'. But it really should have been something else."

"What?"

Rachel linked her arm through his again, waiting until Finn was ready. "To **us**."

Finn managed to let Rachel take a small sip of her champagne before he took hold of her flute, replacing the glass with his own lips.

Rachel broke off with a soft giggle. "Y'know, one of these days we should really share a kiss in a place where we're not surrounded by witnesses. The bowling alley, here, even the auditorium, we had people around us!"

"That's true. If we were in public, I'd have to kiss you here," he leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. "Or maybe here," he kissed her cheek. "But we're pretty much hidden now, you know."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I could kiss you here," he leaned over to kiss and nip at her shoulder. "Or here." His lips found their way to her neck, leaving a hot open-mouthed kiss in their wake.

Rachel smothered her giggle. "Where else?"

He pretended to think about it. "Well, if we were in public, I'd do this," he kissed her lips softly. "But since we're alone, I want to do **this**." Tenderly, his lips ghosted across the cleavage peeking out from her neckline.

Rachel moaned quietly, and breathlessly asked, "Where else?"

Finn gently moved his hand up her thigh, pushing up her skirt. The thought of Rachel, her soft skin and her tantalizing taste pushed all other coherent thoughts from his mind as he agilely bent around to place a kiss on her kneecap, and another just above in on the front of her thigh.

Rachel gasped as her body arched, and Finn marveled at just how responsive she was to him. His hand still on her knee, Rachel tugged on his lapels as she fell backwards onto the carpet, pulling him on top of her, with only his bent right arm to keep himself up high enough so that his body didn't squash hers.

Rachel melted against him, a soft moan echoing from her lips to his own mouth. Her legs parted, and Finn slipped between them, automatically settling into the cradle of her thighs. He knew Rachel could feel his arousal, and couldn't keep his hips from pressing forward, rubbing against hers. Rachel let out another moan, this one with a sharper, needy edge, and her tongue pushed into his mouth aggressively to twine with his. He could feel the soft, smooth skin of her outer thigh underneath his fingertips, and wanted to touch more. Wanted to touch more, touch further up, until he could feel how ready she was for him.

All he had to do was move his hand to push up her dress a little further, and unfasten his pants, and he could take her right now. The very thought of her virginity staining the expensive carpet, with all her family members and his brother less than twenty feet away, somehow made him even harder than before.

Finn never would have guessed he was so kinky. But then, he loved Rachel, **wanted** Rachel, in ways he'd never loved or wanted anyone else. He was already certain that he never would.

Finn broke off the kiss to bury his face in Rachel's sweet-smelling hair, swallowing his groan as his entire body throbbed, reverberating with desire for the young woman beneath him.

This was why he'd brought Kurt along on all their bowling nights, and why he'd made sure he was never completely alone with Rachel for more than a few minutes since that first not-a-date-but-it-really-was. He'd always sensed how dangerous their connection could be. Even when he hadn't known how he really felt about Rachel, he knew that he had no limits or limitations when it came to her - all his usual uncertainty and embarrassment over his stupid, awkward body disappearing in a haze of instinct and need – and he knew that Rachel would never refuse him **anything**. Even the things they both knew she should.

Rachel arched under him, and the pressure against the side of his hips shifted as she wrapped her legs around his hips. Finn gasped in surprise, his hips slamming against hers, and if this had been happening back in high school he would have been long gone.

Rachel whisper-moaned his name, and Finn nearly exploded on the spot. Instead, he eased his body away, his lips pressing against hers again to muffle any noises she made. He reached back to unwrap her legs from around him, taking a slender ankle in hand to move her leg back on the floor. Moving off her body, his own painfully hard with need, he slumped back to the carpet beside her and tried to work out how he could get to the damn bathroom and get some relief, because this wasn't going to go away on its own.

He certainly wasn't going to be able to take much more of this. If he didn't get inside Rachel very, very, soon he was going to explode for real.

Rachel was breathing hard beside him, and he finally opened his eyes to see her lovely face only a centimeter or so away from his. Her eyes were glazed with desire, her mouth slack, and he nearly surged forward to kiss her again before sanity crept back into her eyes.

"Oh, right, no witnesses," she sighed. Then her eyes hardened with determination. "But soon. Very soon."

Finn nodded frantically in agreement, because he wasn't sure he could speak without moaning.


	6. Chapter 6

THE WEDDING DAY!

Lima Grand Hotel

Aphrodite suite

Quinn and Puck had disappeared from the cocktail party turned riot the night before while Finn and Rachel were still in hiding under the buffet table, so Rachel hadn't had a chance to talk to her sister until now.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" Quinn cried out in surprise when she felt Rachel's small hand grip her upper arm.

Stone-faced, Rachel kept a tight grip on her sister, despite the slippery satin of her ice blue robe, and dragged her into the bathroom of the bridal suite. Interestingly, Santana and Brittany didn't twitch a finger to stop her, even though they didn't know just how much turmoil Quinn's bait-and-switch of grooms had thrown her life into. Maybe Kurt had filled them in yesterday morning?

Rachel locked the door behind them, and leaned against it.

Quinn laid one hand on the marble sink, and her whole body tensed, as if she were bracing herself for a blow.

Rachel had spent roughly a third of the previous night thinking about Quinn, and Noah, and all the signs she should have seen, but mostly about her sister's betrayal. She'd spent a third of the night reveling – almost wallowing – in the glorious memories of Finn's kiss, and more than a few heated fantasies about 'soon', and a third of the night just dreaming about him, after her exhaustion had finally sent her crashing into sleep.

Rachel's voice was flat, devoid of all emotion as she addressed her sister. "I spent a lot of time last night thinking about the past two weeks, and performing a thorough analysis of my feelings about this whole mess. In the end, there's really only one thing I need to know."

Quinn gulped. "What's that?"

"Why didn't you **tell** me?" Rachel nearly screamed. All the angst and fury she'd gone through for this, and she hadn't even been kept in the loop?

A shame-faced Quinn bit her lip. "I'm not really sure. I think I forgot."

"Oh." There really wasn't anything Rachel **could** say to that.

"Then when that nosy perv Ryerson caught me coming home in your jacket – you were so **angry**, Rachel. I'd never seen you like that before, and I was terrified that you'd blow the whole thing open just to get back at me."

"I seriously considered it, even when I thought about what Terri might do to you. Or to Noah. But let's face it, she wouldn't have believed me, anyway."

Quinn's eyes widened, and she shook her head, "No, Rachel, I'm sure she would have-"

"I was never the daughter Terri wanted," Rachel stated. "I was just the child she put up with because Dad wanted me. When I helped Dad take over and replenish the Glee club, the same club that she saw as an interloper in their marriage... that was it for her." Rachel lifted her chin proudly, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. "It doesn't matter. Emma may not be married to Dad yet, but she's already more of a mother to me than Terri ever was. When I'm eighteen, I may even search for my birth mother. In any case, Terri no longer holds any importance in my life."

"And me?" Quinn asked tentatively.

Rachel smiled. "We don't always get along, Quinn, and we don't have much in common but you're my family, same as Dad, despite our late start in life together. You're my sister, and I love you." Stepping away from the door, she moved forward and into Quinn's outstretched arms for a long hug. After a minute, Rachel loosened her grip just enough for her to look Quinn in the eye.

"Now, let's get you married," Rachel told her.

Quinn laughed, her eyes wet, and nodded.

* MOH *

Lima Grand Hotel

Top Hat Ballroom

Several hours later

Sitting at the head table for a minute to rest her feet, Rachel slumped back in her seat and smiled, looking around the ballroom. She'd just come off the stage, where members of New Directions had been alternating sets with the DJ – actually, now that she knew that Puck was the groom, not Sam, there were a few decisions about the wedding that now made much more sense. Sam would have insisted on a live band, and the bridal waltz probably would have been a duet – or an instrumental piece from a sci-fi movie, knowing him.

The choice of a Queen song, even with such romantic lyrics, for the bridal waltz was so obviously Noah's idea that Rachel had trouble believing she hadn't realized something was strange before. Her slow, acoustic arrangement (with Artie on guitar, and Kurt on piano) had turned out even better than she'd hoped, and Finn had gazed at her the whole time with a dreamy, loving look on his face that made her heart flutter in her chest.

Her Dad had smiled widely throughout the whole of his dance with Quinn, even as a few stray tears trickled down his cheeks, and Quinn had been suspiciously dewy-eyed and sniffly at the end herself. That had been a couple of songs ago, and Rachel had just finished her second performance, of Adele's 'Rolling in the deep'. Now, Leah was dancing around the stage as she belted out Paramore's 'Playing God' – Rachel wondered if anyone caught how well the lyrics fit her Dad's ex-wife?

On the dance floor, Quinn was dancing in a loose circle with Santana and Brittany, and Rachel thought all over again that Kurt deserved some sort of fashion medal. The Golden Pincushion, perhaps? He'd not only removed nearly all the excessive adornments and re-done the sashes and sleeves, but he'd somehow managed to swap Brittany and Santana's dresses, giving each girl the color that actually suited her. He'd even managed with the considerable difference between their cup sizes, without butchering or re-making the bodices from scratch. Maybe Santana had a lower-cut neckline with a wider satin trim than Brittany or Rachel, but that suited her down to the ground anyway.

"There you are. Can't you stay in one place for five fucking minutes?"

Rachel looked up, startled, to find her new brother-in-law looming over her chair. In the exultation of Finn's now-returned love and the sheer confusion of the catastrophic party, she hadn't noticed that Noah had shaved off his mohawk for the wedding, and the even, almost-bald look suited him.

"Did you want something, Noah?"

Puck rolled his eyes. "No, I left my wife and came over here to see if I could fold a napkin into an origami swan."

"Origami is only for paper folding, Noah-"

"What the fuck ever, Berry, just dance with me."

Rachel laughed and stood, letting him lead her to the dance floor. As she'd been doing most of the afternoon and evening, she quickly scanned the room for Finn. She smiled, when she saw that Carole had already managed to drag him onto the dance floor (earlier that day he'd told her firmly that there was no way he was setting foot on the thing until everyone else was at least halfway drunk). As Noah slid an arm around her waist, a familiar voice floated to her ear, and she grinned.

"What's so funny?"

Rachel giggled. "Just as we all thought, Dad couldn't resist the urge to hop on stage himself. Judging by the clock over the door, I won the Glee club pool as to when."

"Yeah, how much?" Puck asked, with the professional air of one who has managed more than one betting pool himself.

"We only put in five dollars each, but seventy-five dollars should still be enough to take Finn to Breadstix for dinner."

Puck grinned. "Taking Finn out to dinner? Don't tell me you two finally got your heads out of your asses and hooked up!"

"If you mean that Finn and I confessed our mutual love and have now embarked on a relationship, then **yes**!" Rachel couldn't stop the huge grin spreading across her face; she didn't want to. Kurt had caught on to their new state immediately, and had apparently kept Finn up half the night begging for details (in between filling up the inbox on her phone with texts), but this was the first time she'd actually said it out loud.

Puck let out a whoop, lifting her off her feet while he spun in a circle, before depositing her on solid ground again. "About fucking time! I was starting to think you two were going to waste years waiting for the other to make a move. Guess I got you just the right present."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. "A bridesmaid present? But Quinn already gave us the Swarovski crystal earrings this morning." Quinn had picked the various pairs of stud earrings with a good eye for the recipients; Brittany's were blue cats, Santana's were red high heels, and Rachel's had been plain crystal, shaped into stars. Rachel had already decided that hers were going to be a good-luck charm.

Puck shook his head. "No, this is a 'thank you for covering for us, even though we've put you through all kinds of shit' present. Just from me to you. I knew me and Q already owed you big-time, but San cornered me during the photos and passed on what Hummel spilled to her during the epic dress fixing. I had no idea you could have missed out on Tisch, Rachel. I know you'll make it to Broadway whether you go to Tisch, UCLA or Bumfuck U, but I've got a pretty good idea what it would have done to you to lose out because of me and Quinn. So – remember when I went to juvie, between junior and senior year?"

"Do I not!" Rachel rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Noah, if you'd pulled that stunt even two months later you would have gone into the adult system, and what would that have done to you?"

Puck grimaced. "I only think about that in nightmares. Tell anyone else – even Q – and I'll deny it, but juvie scared the shit out of me. It was such a shock to the system, it started me on the road that led me back to Quinn." He grinned, throwing off his dark mood. "But I did learn a new skill!"

Rachel smirked. "I'm better."

Puck snickered. "Still can't believe that out of all the Gleeks, you turned out to be the best lifter. Anyway, it's in my-"

"Left inside pocket?" Rachel asked politely, showing him the plastic rectangle in the hand that wasn't still resting on his shoulder.

Puck looked at her in admiration. "Fuck, you're good."

"And all this for a piece of plastic?"

"No, it's a key for room 1017. Tenth floor, north-east corner, deluxe room with living area, flat screen TV with cable, and en suite bathroom." Puck nodded to the keycard in her hand. "We couldn't have pulled this off without you, Rachel, so that room's all yours until 10am tomorrow, everything paid for. You want to get Kurt, Mercedes, Tina, Mike and Artie and watch pay per view all night, clean out the minibar and order one of everything off the room service menu, go ahead. But since you've been pining over the Finnster for about three years, and you've kinda been dating off and on with Kurt chaperoning for almost that long – even if neither of you realized it – I thought that maybe you might want a party for two." Puck looked at her levelly. "Trust me, if you ever want to get laid by Finn, you're going to have to make it happen yourself. He's too caught up in being honorable and shit."

"There's nothing wrong with being honorable, Noah," Rachel told him primly. "Not that you'd know anything about that."

"Fuck, no," he retorted. "If I was honorable, Quinn would have married Sam today, I'd be eating my heart out over her for the next ten years, and we'd all be fucking miserable."

"Hmm, you do have a point there."

"So?" Puck grinned lewdly.

"None of your business, Noah. And if I ever catch you asking Finn about our sex life in the future, I'll get Quinn to make you sleep on the couch for a week."

A subtle cough made Rachel turn her head, to find her dad standing beside them. She hadn't even noticed that 'Sway' had finished.

"Mind if I steal my daughter for a dance?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Schue." As Puck stepped back, he noticed that the keycard in Rachel's hand had vanished, even though she didn't have a handbag or pockets, and he hadn't seen a thing. Damn, she **was** good. With a nod to his new father-in-law, Puck strolled away, wondering if he could persuade his wife into consummating their marriage in the linen closet.

In his wake, Will and Rachel moved in perfect time to the music, as the DJ played Rascal Flatts' 'My Wish'. Given how appropriate the lyrics seemed, Rachel wondered if her dad had requested it.

"So... you and Finn are a couple now, huh? How did I miss this?"

Rachel smiled. "You didn't, Dad, it happened just yesterday. You've had other things to occupy your time – just staying sane being one of them."

Will's eyes were solemn. "Does that really matter? I still believe that I owe you an apology, Rachel. You're my daughter every bit as much as Quinn is, and I feel like I've badly neglected you. I don't want you to think for a moment that you're any less important or loved than your sister, even if she has been the main focus of my attention for a good while now."

"I never doubted you for a moment, Dad," Rachel assured him. "You think I didn't notice that you took the lion's share of Terri's insanity? You haven't been spending much time with me lately, true, but that's because you've been shielding me from her."

Will smiled, and nodded. They danced for a few verses in companionable silence, and Rachel made a decision. If she was going to have an adult relationship with Finn, she needed to act like it. She'd never been very good at hiding things from her father, and trying to now would be not only fruitless but immature.

"Dad? Just to let you know – you and Emma will have the house to yourselves tonight. I'll make sure I'm home in time for lunch. I didn't plan it originally, but I've been handed an opportunity and I intend to make the most of it."

Will looked at her, his face neutral. "Are you sure this is the right decision?"

Rachel smiled, and did her best to look like woman in love, not a girl.

"Yes, I'm sure. I love him, Dad."

"I know, sweetheart, you've loved him for almost three years. I was never against you and Finn; in fact, I've always thought you'd be a perfect match. But I know you, Rachel, and you never do anything half-way, including falling in love, and that scared me. But I really believe you're finally grown up enough to handle it."

Rachel smiled, and hugged Will around the neck.

"But sweetie? Do me a favor?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"If you and Finn ever decide to get married... could you please give serious thought to eloping?"

* MOH *

SIX YEARS LATER

Bellagio Hotel

Las Vegas

Rachel threw her head back and laughed as she and Kurt finished a modified version of the swing-dance routine that had helped them win Nationals their senior year. Modified, because the ankle-length skirt of her wedding dress - cream, with a stream of glittering golden stars woven right into the fabric, sweeping from her left shoulder-strap down the bodice and all the way down and across the skirt to her right ankle - was too full to pull off the complete routine without getting tangled up.

As the music segued seamlessly into Cole Porter's 'Night and Day', Kurt swung her into a foxtrot, steering her expertly across the floor.

"I have to say, Rachel, I'm fairly sure that an elopement means the bride and groom run off together and don't tell anyone they're married until after the fact. Having one person, two at the most, come along as witnesses is acceptable. But bringing along the groom's parents and brother, the bride's father, stepmother and birth mother – along with her adopted child - as well as her sister, brother-in-law and all her best friends from high school and several from college? I don't think you can justifiably call it an elopement anymore."

"But you were the only one who knew about the wedding part," Rachel pointed out. "Everyone else thought we were just getting together for a vacation. We didn't even tell anyone that we had a special surprise planned for one afternoon and evening until we got here. Heck, Dad, Emma and Shelby didn't even know Quinn and Noah were here, let alone Mercedes, Tina, Artie and Mike."

Kurt snickered. "They **did** all look satisfyingly gob-smacked when you came down the staircase to the Terrazza Di Sogno in your bridal gown. I can only imagine Mr. Schue's face when he opened the door to his room and you asked him to walk you down the aisle in ten minutes! I have to commend you for your impeccable staging – you even managed to get the fountains to go off in time with your first kiss!"

"I couldn't have managed it without my years of experience running the musical," Rachel admitted modestly. "We also couldn't have done all of this without you, so thank you." Her whole face lit up as she continued, "Now you're **my** brother, too! Kurt, the way your BFF resume keeps expanding, I'm going to have to be your surrogate mother or something to balance the ledger."

"You're my sister now," Kurt replied fondly. "Seeing you and Finn so happy is all the thanks I need. Mind you," he added, "a set of 1200-thread count sheets would be nice as well."

"Only if you don't mind getting them after we've broken them in a few times," came Finn's voice from behind them.

"Oh, eeuuuwwww," Kurt grimaced.

While he was occupied trying to banish the images Finn's words conjured up in his brain, Finn seized the opportunity and snatched Rachel from his arms, neatly depositing a laughing Shelby Corcoran in her place. Almost as smoothly as Kurt, he steered her back across the floor.

"We're not leaving already, surely?" Rachel teased Finn. "We have guests, after all. Even if we do always have awesome sex after weddings."

"Ever since the first time," Finn replied, an intimate smile lighting his face at the memory. "But no, not **quite** yet. We've got a special request to do first," her new husband grinned.

Rachel raised her eyebrows and snuggled closer. While some of Finn's ideas of 'romance' should go down in the record books as things not to do, when he did romance well, he did it **incredibly** well. His proposal to her, in the McKinley High auditorium the evening of his fifth-year reunion, had so completely overwhelmed her that she'd forgotten to actually say 'yes', just put her hand out for the ring and attacked him on the picnic rug. They never did make it to the reunion.

When the next song began, Rachel knew from the very first bars that Finn had done incredibly well again. As 'Faithfully' played, Rachel leaned her head on his chest, and they both hummed along in perfect harmony.

Coincidentally (or maybe not) they were right at the doors when the song ended, and Puck jumped up on the table and began to serenade Quinn with a loud, over-the-top version of 'I was born to love you'. Even as Quinn laughingly tried to pull him down, Finn whisked Rachel out the doors and into the gardens. Hand in hand, they half-ran through the grounds in the twilight, slowing down to a fast walk when they entered the hotel proper. Judging by some of the grins on the people they passed on their way through the lobby, and in the elevator, they weren't fooling anyone.

They'd chosen the outdoor terrace rather than the more luxurious indoor rooms for their reception, because they wanted to indulge themselves with a suite for their honeymoon. As Rachel pointed out, they'd be spending most of their time in bed, anyway.

Once they entered the foyer of their Salone Suite, Finn picked Rachel up in his arms, and carried her down the foyer and across the living area to their bed. True to the Bellagio's standards, housekeeping had made the bed impeccably, despite how thoroughly they'd rumpled it the previous night.

Finn laid Rachel carefully on the bed, and stood up just long enough to shuck his shoes and jacket, because Rachel loved undressing him herself. Normally, Rachel would be watching him with bated breath, but this time she was too busy admiring her wedding ring, three diamonds shaped like stars embedded in the gold band.

"Have I told you how much I love the inscription?" Rachel asked him.

"Yeah," Finn replied as he crawled onto the bed beside her. "But you can tell me again, if you'd like."

They'd both agreed on having their names engraved inside the bands, but Finn had had a last-minute inspiration and asked the jeweler to make the script smaller, in order to fit three more words in.

'_One and done_'.

Finn rolled on top of his wife. "Or, why don't you show me how much you love the inscription, Mrs. Rachel Berry Hudson?"

Rachel looked up and gave him a heated smile. "Why don't I just show you what I'm wearing underneath this dress, instead?"

FINI

_**Well, that's it for Maid of Honor! Thank you for the pleasure of your company.**_

_**If you want to save the whole story in one file, you can find my original edit at the hetbigbang archive, hetbigbang. weebly. com/ maid-of-honor-by-taleweaver. html (just take out the spaces). There's a few typos, and one flashback not in italics; I didn't like pointing it out to them when I had to send them corrections for the HTML codings once already. But you can also find a couple of nice pieces of artwork that supersyncspaz7 made, and links to a whole bunch of uniformly AWESOME fics written for the bigbang. I'm the only Glee author there, but you might find something in another of your fandoms!**_

_**For anyone who's interested in such things, right up until I signed up for het_bigbang, the only scenes written were the Dresses of Doom scene in the bridal shop, and Finn and Rachel's makeout session underneath the buffet table. (Next time I finish a fic this big, I hope I remember to keep the DVD commentary notes for it.) I wound up picking this fic from about 3 partly-written stories for the ficathon because this was the one with the most detailed outline, and I figured I had the best chance of finishing it in time! **_

_**Again, much praise to mida212, who not only managed to beta about 80% of this fic in a single week (my procrastination, not hers), but also gave me many helpful suggestions and even contributed to a couple of scenes - she pretty much wrote Rachel and Finn's phone conversation outside the dress shop in part 4, and the bitchfest between Terri and Sam's mother in part 5, as well as hashing out the details of what parts of the Bellagio were used for Finn and Rachel's wedding; I was originally going to have them go to the Crystal Phoenix Hotel from the Midnight Louie mystery novels. If you liked this fic, it's a good bet you'll like her stuff, too! She even helped inspire this story in the first place; in my reviews for her story 'How to lose a Finn in 10 days' I had a running gag about hiding underneath the table to avoid the stuff hitting the fan at the gala; that led to the ongoing mental image of Finn and Rachel hiding underneath a buffet table at a formal event. I even posted it as a prompt at the Glee Kink Meme, and got a lovely response, but it wasn't enough and I wound up with the idea for MOH. **_

_**Thanks again to everyone who's fav-ed me and sent me reviews - it really gives me a lift to know that other people (some of whom are authors I follow myself!) enjoy my work! I hope you come back for my next Glee story!**_


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